Reality and Other Inconveniences
by OhMyWord
Summary: Edward’s body was close, too close for sensible thought on my part. He watched me like he was waiting for an opening, my own personal loosening of morals.
1. One: The Dress

Author's Note: So I was in my kitchen the other day and I said to myself, Self, you're already reading two books at the same time, why not write two stories as well? Anyway, I couldn't help myself, so here you go. This is similar in tone to Letters to Gramercy, so if you liked that one, you'll hopefully like this one. There are pictures for it on my homepage, linked in my profile. Also, I'm posting the second chapter right after I post this one; yes I went on a writing bender these last few days.

Nice reviews are better than chocolate, unless maybe you're licking that chocolate off someone.

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Reality and Other Inconveniences

One: The Dress

Was I supposed to put it on over my head? Or step into it? A real girl would know how to do this…

I pulled down the zipper, the sound falling in with the faint rustling of fabric being adjusted over arms and legs and a small sniffle from my best friend, usually talkative, but smart enough today to give me my space. I stepped into the dress and tugged it up over my body, struggling to keep it facing the right direction. I shoved my arms into the proper holes and twisted myself into unrealistic positions in a pitiful attempt to do up the zipper myself.

It was a simple black shift, black stockings, black shoes; it made me look half dead. The thought set my heart beating too fast and then it stuttered, like it might stop. I put a hand on my hip and one to my chest as if I could manipulate the organ into a regular pace, but it only made me notice that my breathing was becoming erratic. I leaned over, bracing myself on the bed that took up most of the space in the hot room. Why wasn't the air conditioner on? It was August for goodness sake. I closed my eyes.

I couldn't breathe.

I felt hands on me then, sets of them, soft and cool like always. The heat never seemed to affect my friends. I focused on that, felt one tiny hand on my back, two strong hands on my face, and the weight of the bed sinking as someone sat down. Until I could breathe again. I looked up into bright blue eyes rimmed with red, but still holding fast to mine though I knew it must have been hard. "I can't get the zipper up on my dress," my voice felt sandpapered. I touched my own forehead as her hands let me go; I ran my hand through my lank hair; it needed to be washed. "Fudge…," I muttered.

"I think you mean fuck," the voice of my pixie headed friend mixed with the expletive was so completely wrong that I laughed, I laughed until the tears in my eyes were no longer from sadness. She zipped my dress and told me to stand up straight, but I still looked down when she finished and I turned to face her. And I noticed something…

"Fuck."

"That's better…what is it?" She looked around for the answer.

I stuck my high heeled foot out to show her the very noticeable rip in my nylons.

"Good," she said, "it's too hot for those anyway."

I slipped off my shoes and wiggled out of the nylons, leaving them in a pile on the bed; I took one look around the room before leading the way to the car.

I sat with Alice on one side of me, Rose on the other, and if I had another side to sit next to, that place would be Charlie's. Instead, he sat stiffly next to Alice, who had pressed his suit for him, clearly uncomfortable as she was currently gripping both his hand and mine. Rose, not used to such affection, sat with her hands clasped together in her lap; I could see her picking at her thumb nail discreetly. I nudged her softly with my elbow and attempted a smile which failed. She smiled back in a maternal way that belied her anything but maternal physical appearance.

My dress was too short, I decided, staring at the hem. I pulled at it lightly with my free hand, already feeling the sweat on my palm. There was no air on in here either and I could feel the eyes staring at me and there was an ache at the back of my neck, but I couldn't raise my head to release the tension because then I would see her and my world would fall apart all over again. In that moment, the coolness of Alice's hand was the only tether I had to something good and normal and constant.

I forced in a breath as the priest took his place and we all had to stand up. Something about this whole situation was unreal to me, my mother only converted to marry Phil. She wouldn't want this. She'd want something outside and we'd all hold flowers and wear ridiculously bright colors and there'd be laughter and we'd all smile and remember. Not this chorus of stand, sit, and kneel. I started thinking that maybe this wasn't real after all, because it wouldn't be like this. So I held onto that and waited, knowing soon enough I would wake up and this would just be some strange thing to tell my mother about the next time she called. Which would be soon because she called almost every day.

The priest's voice was calm and I wondered if even in my dream, he was used to doing things like this. "And now we're going to hear a few words from Renee's daughter, Isabella." He looked toward me and stepped back, as if I was actually going to step up to the pulpit and give a speech. Maybe this was a nightmare. I looked to my left and I could see Charlie staring back; his heart looked broken. _Wake up. _I said to myself; this was no longer just a strange story to tell in the morning over coffee. I looked at Alice and shook my head. _This isn't really happening; tell me it isn't. _Her expression was the same as my father's and I felt my hands start to shake, but it was hot in here, why was I shaking? I felt that same stutter in my heartbeat and this claustrophobic fear as everyone started leaning toward me. I strained for a breath and felt a hand on my shoulder and I wanted to shrug it off, but I was pretty sure it was Charlie. "I can't…," was all I could manage.

Rosalie's voice came from behind me; I think she was talking to Alice, but everything sounded off, like when a radio station starts going out during a long drive. She spoke too quickly for me to understand and then the coolness of her body was gone, replaced by the stifling heat of the church air. Alice stood up too and then was gone and I was sure this had to be some kind of nightmare. I kept my eyes in my lap, afraid of what might happen if I looked up; Charlie's warmth came closer then, but I didn't mind. It was like being near a fireplace on a rainy night in Washington. It helped me catch my breath enough that when I heard them begin speaking; I let it take me back.

_The bathroom seemed like a good place to hide in my six year old mind. Out of the three stalls, I picked the largest one and when I heard the door open, I gingerly placed a ballet slippered foot on the toilet seat to hoist myself up. I leaned a hand on the wall for balance and held my breath. Nobody said anything, but I heard the soft sounds of more than one person inside. When I had to breathe, I did so quietly, waiting for whoever was out there to leave. And then I was going to wait in here until class was over and then run outside and wait for my mom to pick me up. And then I was going to quit ballet forever; it was stupid anyway._

_I screamed when I saw the girl's heads looking up at me from the floor just inside the stall door. They were laying on their backs in order to peek under the door, big smiles on their faces. "Hi!" The dark haired one said while the blonde giggled. "Whatcha doing?"_

_My face felt hot and I knew it was probably red too. "Nothing."_

"_We wanna do nothing too," the blonde girl said. "How long do you think we can hide from the grown-ups?"_

I finally looked up and they were standing side by side, taking turns speaking into the microphone; they were being strong so I didn't have to be. They made it more the way my mother would have wanted it. Alice told a story about the day they met her, which was the same day I met them; they said they'd help me persuade her to let me quit ballet. Suffice to say our plan didn't work and I had to endure the rest of the year before she let me stop going, but it wasn't so bad after that. Alice and Rose were mischievous as little girls and together we were incorrigible.

My eyes met Alice's during Rose's turn to speak and she seemed to be saying, _look at me, stay with me. _I forced myself not to look at the coffin, remember her alive, remember the good times. All those useless things that people say when they don't know what to say floated through my mind. Mostly I didn't want to look because then I would never forget.

I listened to Rose's story about the first time we tried a "round robin", where we attempted to trick our parents into thinking we were sleeping at each other's homes, but in reality we were at a party on a nearby reservation. My mother caught on and dragged us all home, but not before I had my first kiss ever with a boy that had hair past his shoulders. Instead of staying mad, she took a detour and picked up ice cream and the four of us stayed up all night in my living room. She promised to keep our secret unless we lied to her again. We never did and no one else ever knew what happened that night. Until today, I guess. My father squeezed my shoulder and chuckled lightly. I noticed other people laugh as well as my friends kept talking.

_This was what she would have wanted._

The heaviness of the Florida humidity and discontent had lifted by the time they stepped down and the services came to a close. I felt Rose's arm rest over my shoulders when we stood to follow the coffin out, Alice held one hand, my father awkwardly held the other from his position in front of me, a last ditch effort to keep me from staring at the long mahogany box. Phil stood in front of him, wilting Gerber daisies in one hand, yellow. I felt like I was being pulled, rather than walking of my own volition. I wasn't ready for this, but does anything ever come when you're actually ready?

Where I would typically hate anyone doting on me, today I let them. Where I would typically shy away from so much physical contact, today I held my arms open to it. Either Alice, Rose, or my father were always close by, when one or the other wasn't retrieving water or food at the small reception at my mother and Phil's little beachside home. Stories were told and people tried to make the best of things, but there was a collective sigh of relief when the first of them started leaving. I had let the day happen around me and the hours of sitting on the little living room loveseat were catching up with me. When the only people left were my friends and Charlie, I slipped off my shoes and finally stood up.

Waving off the refrain of "can I get you anything", I moved into the kitchen where Phil seemed to also be hiding. I liked him and I think we were more alike than different and I was sad seeing him in here without the mobile support group I had around me. I walked over to where he was leaning over the sink, staring out the window, and rested my head on his shoulder. I didn't know what to say, but I knew at this point I'd heard everything that could be said and none of it was ever really quite right. So I just stood there with him and hoped he could tell that I felt it too, that mix of grief and emptiness and disbelief, that knowledge that you'd do anything to have them back. After a few minutes he sighed and said, "yeah, me too."

We cleaned up the kitchen and put away the countless covered dishes people brought unaware that Phil was the better cook in the marriage; over time my mother had given up on her experimental dishes. Though he was much younger, Phil had also grounded my mom in a way no one else had been able to; they were contented together.

I was just sticking some kind of congealed casserole in the fridge when Phil finally spoke up. "The reading of her will is tomorrow morning, you're coming, right?"

I shrugged, "I don't know. I mean, there's nothing -,"

"I know what she left you."

That surprised me; actually all of this new information surprised me. I didn't know Phil was able to convince her to make a will in the first place until I arrived in Florida a few days prior. She had more assets than I'd realized, but something about going to the reading seemed wrong to me. I felt like we were picking over what she'd left behind, snatching up her belongings like vultures. There wasn't anything I wanted that I couldn't just remember. But I still looked at Phil with curiosity, what would she have left me instead of her husband?

"We talked about it before she decided, it was years ago, but I don't think she changed it." He shifted the wet cloth he was holding from one hand to the other while I waited. "She left you a house."

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	2. Two: Is This a Joke?

Author's Note: Hi again, thanks for reading :)

Nice reviews are better than chocolate, unless maybe you're licking that chocolate off someone.

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Two: Is This a Joke?

I was now the disgruntled owner of my very first home.

Seriously.

It was my grandmother's house; she'd left it to my mother and now my mother had left it to me. I had forgotten the place even existed. It was in Washington, close enough to where I lived that if I wanted to move into it I could without completely uprooting my life. The house itself sat empty and had been so for the past several years. It included three acres of waterfront property and an occupied guest house. The tenant was also the caretaker, but no one had been able to get a hold of him to let him know the deed was being transferred.

I suppose most people would be, while not exactly happy about the situation, at least…I don't know…feeling something other than the absolute dread I had in the pit of my stomach. When I finally admitted it was something other than indigestion, my friends started making suggestions. I could sell it, rent it out, or something else that I'd heard and already forgotten. But all of that felt wrong; my mom had left it to _me_. And I highly doubted she did so just so I could turn around and sell it to the highest bidder. That knowledge, unfortunately, did not come with any further enlightenment.

So Alice, Rose, and I packed into my baby, a red 1955 Aston Martin. My father liked to joke that I would never drive a vehicle made after 1960. I had fixed it up from barely a shell and now she was my pride and joy. Ok, correction – a friend of my family fixed it up from barely a shell. Anyway, do you ever just drive to drive? Well, once she was finished, I liked to drive for no reason, pretending my bleak moss green and grey home town was actually the English countryside. Sometimes I think my life is filled with more daydreams than actual fact. Nonetheless when I was alone I drove, a copy of Pride and Prejudice taking up primary position on my passenger seat.

"I think…," Alice said, staring at the GPS on her cell phone, "it should be up here on the right." She didn't sound too sure.

"Please God, let this be it," Rose commented. Why she had chosen to fold her long body into my tiny backseat, I didn't know. But I had a feeling this was a first and a last for her. "There!" She pointed randomly into the trees.

I slowed down; to a passerby it probably looked like I was casing the neighborhood. I didn't see anything. "Where?"

"Oh, I see it, through the trees," Alice paused, "look, there's the driveway."

"You mean that dirt road?" I asked, that peach pit of dread growing. Everything was so green, there were trees everywhere, you could just barely see any homes from the road. I couldn't believe this all was just a few minutes from town. I turned onto the narrow drive and the house came into view almost out of nowhere. It was green, like everything else. And big, really big. I stopped when the driveway split, the left fork heading down to the guest house that I assumed must have been closer to the water.

We all stared up at the monstrosity.

"Is it just me…or does that look like…," Rose trailed off, craning her neck to see the third story.

"A haunted house," I finished. "My mother left me a haunted house." I stepped out of the car, hoping my windows had somehow disfigured the image.

More precisely, it was a Victorian, an original in fact. Or so I had been told by the lawyer. Why couldn't I remember ever visiting this place? The third story looked to be an attic and above that, on the roof, was a widow's walk. I had a sudden image of pacing it, waiting for my husband's return, not that this house was near any large bodies of water. The "waterfront" was actually a rather large pond, sizable enough to swim or put a canoe in, but nothing more extravagant.

The girls got out and inspected it more closely. "You know, it's actually a beautiful house; I bet you could get historical landmark status," Rose remarked, the architectural expert in our little group.

"Great," I quipped, stepping around the car toward the front door. I walked up the steps and took note of the badly chipping paint; I shuddered to think what might be waiting beyond the door. I took the oversize key from my pocket; it slid with some difficulty into the lock and opened with an ominous groan.

Alice grabbed my arm. "This is the part where Leatherface comes out with his chainsaw, be careful." I shook her off while Rose spoke up.

"I think their house was more plantation style."

"Thanks," I said sarcastically, but still, I crept in as quietly as possible lest I disturb a family of psychotic serial killers. It was completely dark if you didn't count the waning light from the open door; long heavy curtains were pulled across all the windows and all the furniture was covered to protect it from dust. "If one of those cloths moves, I'm out of here." I inched over to the nearest window and threw open the curtains, raising a cloud of dust in their wake. I sneezed.

"Nice floors, gorgeous crown molding, not bad," Rose's hand swept over the banister in examination. "Careful on the stairs, this is a little loose."

"So are you," I could see Alice's Cheshire grin.

Rose looked at her with un-offended surprise. "Touché."

We moved around the first floor pulling back curtains; at the back of the house you could just barely see the pond and right next to the shore, the guest house.

"So, who do you think lives there?" Alice peeked out a window in what appeared to be the library, "think Leatherface finally got out of Texas?"

I bumped her with my elbow. "How many times have you seen that movie?" I looked out the window toward the house, wondering where my new tenant was and how well he knew my mother. Rose joined our spying, easily a head taller than either of us.

She shrugged, "he's probably some student that needed cheap housing." She was referring to the fact that we lived in a small university town; people everywhere rented out rooms above their garages or their basements to the starving student demographic. "What's his name?"

"Edward something; I don't think he's a student." The day I went to the will reading had passed in a strange blur of legal documentation; I had gotten the basic information on Edward, but couldn't recall much of it.

We lost interest and spent the small remainder of daylight exploring the house and trying to get a hold of people to get the water and power turned on. While I moved from room to room I noticed something strange on all the doors; someone, Edward I assumed, had put sticky notes on them. The one outside the library said _Samantha Turley, _outside the master bedroom was written the name _Benjamin Canter. _Each door had a different name, but no other information. I left them alone, wondering at their importance.

We learned during our wandering that the house was going to need more than a little work. I imagined dollar signs being flushed down a toilet. And I didn't have many of those to spare. Where Alice and I could really only see aesthetically what was going to need work, Rose filled us in on a few other details once the water was turned on. "Well, I don't know for sure, but my guess is the plumbing is going to need an overhaul," she sat on the top step at the back porch while Alice sat at the bottom and I was flat on my back in the grass. I noticed it hadn't been recently mowed, but looked fairly well kept; I wondered if that was one of Edward's regular jobs. I zoned out for the rest of Rose's speech, something about new pipes and the shower and rewiring, and stared at the sky through the trees. It was a dark grey, twilight, and about to rain; we'd have to go inside soon.

I sighed and sat up, "so much for airing out the house." We'd opened the windows in hopes of getting rid of even a tiny bit of that old dusty, closed up for too long, smell. But as the first rain drops dotted my hair, I knew that plan was out.

We went back inside and made another pass through the house, closing everything up. Alice called from an upstairs bedroom across the hall from where I was, "So, after this I think we should take off, yes?" For all the horror and suspense movies she obsessed over, Alice was easily frightened.

"I second that!" Rose called from I wasn't sure where.

I picked up a picture I hadn't noticed before off the uncovered nightstand. In it my mother and grandmother were sitting on the back porch, where the three of us had just been resting. They were wearing light, cotton dresses and holding glasses of something; I was sitting at their feet, almost out of view. I held a book that I was clearly too young to be able to read, but very focused on it nonetheless. My mother was laughing, her head tipped back; she looked so happy.

Alice cleared her throat from the doorway, "are you ready?"

I set the frame back down and shifted, not quite comfortable with where my new train of thought was taking me. "I think…I'm going to stay here tonight." What I was really thinking was, _I think I'm going to live here_. I looked at them, bracing for any reaction.

They both regarded me carefully; I thought maybe to see if I'd gone off the deep end. Alice caved first. "Well, it's Friday and all…it could be like camping." She was referring to the fact that while there was now running water the electricity could not be turned on until the next day, presumably just to irritate us. She looked at Rose expectantly, who had her arms crossed.

She was not a fan of being without basic utilities, but when Alice unleashed "the eyes" on her, she slouched. "Fine."

"Can we sleep in the same room though?" Alice asked. I think she was blushing.

After testing the one bed in the whole house, which felt worse than sleeping on pavement (I would imagine), we congregated in the living room with all the candles we could find which came out to two squat vanilla scented ones and three votives. "Lets try not to set fire to the house on the first day, ok?" Rose, always the practical one. She uncovered furniture in what looked to be a parlor room and threw the cloths in an empty corner. Alice found blankets that smelled a little like moth balls and dust and set them up in between a couple of small antique couches.

Undressing halfway, we were exhausted and admittedly, a little punch drunk. We settled down in a mass of fully grown limbs and thoughts of our many sleepovers, none of which had ever been quite this uncomfortable. I stretched, lucky enough not to be in the middle, and faced Alice, whose foot I could feel near my ankle. She grinned, "you didn't shave your legs."

"Hush, you." I closed my eyes.

"Do you guys feel a draft?" Rose asked from Alice's other side.

"It's because you're wearing a thong." She replied.

Rose tugged at the blanket in a huff. "Yeah well, at least I'm waxed."

I rolled away from them with a quiet "oh Jesus."

Alice mumbled next a few minutes later, half her face pressed into the blanket. "Does anyone else smell cake?"

"It's the candles," Rose replied, half asleep already.

"Are you sure?"

Rose answered with an equal mixture of tiredness and sarcasm. "No, I'm baking and just didn't tell you. Go check the kitchen."

"G'night," I interrupted, knowing they were just getting started.


	3. Three: Who The Hell Are You?

Author's Note: A timely update, I'm shocked! Anyway, don't forget, there are pictures for this on my homepage in case you're as visual as I am. Thanks for reading!

Also, I got honked at by a car of guys during my walk home from work, classy gentlemen, really classy...

Nice reviews are better than chocolate, unless maybe you're licking that chocolate off someone.

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Three: Who the Hell Are You?

I was fairly certain that I was dealing with one of two things, either there was someone living in the attic or this house was indeed, haunted. The notion that it was just an old house with a lot of creaks and moans did occur to me, but only momentarily as I watched the attic stairs with a tightening in my chest. The stairs were nestled at the back of the second floor next to a hall closet that I also wouldn't go near. Who needed a space for extra towels when you could have tremor inducing fear instead?

Potential unexplainable death aside, I rather liked the house. I always thought beauty was in the details and this place had _a lot_ of details. From a pane of glass in the master bedroom that I noticed had a singular circular ripple to a strange molding stamp in the ceiling of the foyer. It looked like a family crest, though whether it was mine or someone else's was yet to be seen. Regardless, it was striking and I found myself at the bottom of the stairs on autopilot just so I could look at it. What might have been a lion took up most of the image and the rest I couldn't make out.

Rubbing the tension out of my neck, I moved quietly from room to room and it wasn't until I'd made a full loop through the first floor that I realized what I was doing – picturing the space with my things moved in, rearranging the existing furniture in my mind.

I called Alice.

"You're moving into that house of a thousand corpses, aren't you?" She said in lieu of a greeting.

"You're frighteningly perceptive for someone that wears a tutu all day."

"It's not a tutu, it's – that's beside the point. Have you told Rose?"

She helped me work out a way to convince Rose, who had already voiced her worry about the merits of moving into a house that was going to have to be renovated. I explained to her my reasoning – having my own home, something about equity (although actually residing in the house had nothing to do with that), and so on. But really I just felt like the house was all I had left of my mother. I could look out the window and see the pond she swam in or the porch steps she sat on during the too short summer months. Things belonged to her here in a way they never did in Florida and I found myself reaching out for anything to hold on to. I was desperately afraid of her fading away.

Over the course of the next week, we moved my few belongings into the house that I was still reluctant to call mine. It was always referred to as "the house" or "my mother's house." The girls worked during the day while I moved some of the smaller things; I had taken a short leave from my job at the university in town. Bereavement leave, they called it. Anyway, my stuff didn't amount to much; a couch, bed, and dresser were the only really heavy things. Rose surprised me by coming over after work one day with tools to take my bed frame apart herself; I was more than a little impressed. But she won the friend of the decade award when she offered up her parents for the house renovations.

"I can't ask them to do that," it sounded wonderful, but I didn't know how I could possibly afford it and I refused special treatment.

"He owns his own company and he loves you; I'm sure we could work something out." She countered. It was true, Carlisle owned a contracting business and his wife was an interior designer; they often worked together and I wondered how they did that without driving each other mad.

Alice nodded, "lifelong friendship discount or maybe installments." She was ridiculously on board with this idea and looking at them, I knew I was vastly outnumbered.

I sighed, "alright, but no discounts; we'll figure something else out, ok? And don't force them if they don't want to," I pleaded.

But of course they wanted to because they were kind and generous and perfect, sometimes I thought they weren't real. It was as if they were completely untouched by the discourteousness and selfish tendencies that so plagued the rest of us.

We decided on what absolutely needed to be done first – the master bathroom, which included a general plumbing refurbishment – and what could wait until later – Esme's plans for a couple of wall removals and things of that nature which made me more than a little nervous. She also had one other plan, to add a shower to the second floor hallway bathroom, which didn't seem necessary to me but she got so excited I agreed before I even realized it.

By the tail end of August, I had signed my name of the dotted line and everything was settling into a routine (if it could be called that). Carlisle and Esme were scheduled to start the first week of September which left me with one more week of normalcy before the renovations began. I went back to work, came home, and wondered if this all would be something my mother would have wanted. I was beginning to fear that the house wouldn't look the same when the dust finally settled.

On another note, I had also still not met my tenant, Edward. He was away, I could tell because there was never any car in the driveway and I spent an odd amount of time thinking about where he could possibly be. Was he off traveling in some exotic locale? Maybe he was a spy, learning secrets in some foreign land. Maybe I needed to find another way to pass the time. Regardless of my musings, on the last afternoon before the house was taken over, I found myself standing at Edward's front door. He wasn't in and I knew I would be able to hear his car before he'd be able to see me, but that didn't stop my heart from fluttering wildly in my chest like I was doing something illicit. I also wore my running clothes in the off chance I was caught – _just taking a jog around the property._

The plan was just to take a quick peek inside the windows, but I soon found out that wasn't going to work. All the blinds were closed. I walked around the perimeter of the little house. It was nice, well kept and made me want to see the inside even more. The set of keys I held felt heavy in my hand, _I could just take a little look, just for a second_… I singled out the right key and raised it to the lock, _I wouldn't even go all the way inside_; this wasn't _really_ spying and besides, I owned the property. The key slid in easily, but wouldn't turn. Not because of any resistance, but because I couldn't bring myself to do it. I held it that way for a moment while I argued with myself and then pulled it out.

What was I _doing?_ This was what came of spending too much time alone.

I stepped into the shower that evening, after an actual jog around the property to clear my head, in a remorseful mood. I was terrified of how much the house was going to change and it was manifesting itself into a general discontent about everything. Why was I moving in here? Why couldn't I just let the house be? My mother would hate this, wouldn't she? Maybe she just wanted me to live in it the way it was or not live in it at all. Maybe it was a punishment for staying in Washington after my parent's divorce.

That last thought made me feel unspeakably guilty. I felt my eyes well up and I let the tears fall, grateful that the shower would clean them away.

I was just finishing up when I heard it, a creaking sound, like footsteps somewhere past the door. Immediately, I thought of Alice's predilection for horror and how if I lived through whatever was about to happen I was going to hear a big fat "I told you so." _Stupid scary movies about stupid houses in the middle of nowhere_. I held my breath and didn't move, afraid any sound would make them come after me, like the noise from the shower wasn't enough. And then I thought of Psycho and how after the first time I saw it I couldn't sleep and would only take baths.

I reached for something to defend myself with, my fight or flight instincts finally surfacing, but the most dangerous weapon I could come up with was my shampoo bottle. I heard another creak then and bent my knees a little, ready to take off running if need be. _I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. _I felt myself shaking.

The door swung open without hesitation and a deep voice called out, "whoever this is, you have five seconds to get out of here before I call the police."

I screamed.

"_You're_ calling the police?! For what? Breaking into _my_ house?!" Leave it to me to be indignant on my last night alive.

"_Your_ house? Who the hell are _you_?" I could hear his disdain dripping from every word; it made me angrier.

"Who the hell am I? Who the hell are _you?!_" The water was starting to run cold.

"I live here!"

"No you _don't!_ I…," and then it hit me. "Oh my God…," my tenant, the caretaker. Of course he'd have keys to this house as well as his own. So…the humiliation train stops out here too. Excellent. "Umm…I think there's been…can we have this conversation when I'm less…"

"Naked?"

"Yeah." Did he realize our mutual idiocy as well?

"I'll…be outside." He left me then to my own devices.

I toweled off and dressed as fast as humanly possible, cursing myself, Edward, and my transparent shower curtain. My tenant had seen me _naked_ - dripping, screaming, scared out of my mind naked. And then it occurred to me, he didn't turn around or anything; he just stood there and yelled at me. What the hell kind of a decent man did that? He wasn't, I decided. He was indecent and he jumped to conclusions and…well I didn't know what else, but I would think of something. I pulled some socks on and held my head high; I was the landlord, after all. I had the upper hand.

I found Edward on the front porch, sitting on the steps; he stood when I opened the door. I expected a bit of mild embarrassment or an apology at least for trying to give me a heart attack, what I didn't expect was the look of pure aggravation on his face. I decided to go first. "Hi," I tried to look sheepish, "this is a little better." I smiled. "I'm Bella Swan, I…inherited the house."

He leaned against the porch railing and crossed his arms. "And no one thought to let me know?"

I stammered. I was never very good with confrontational people, first they made me nervous and then they made me mad. "I…well…the lawyer tried getting a hold of you, but said that he couldn't."

"He obviously didn't try well enough."

I wasn't sure what to say, "he said he tried calling you several times; you might check your answering machine before you break in," I paused, trying to rein in my automatic hostility toward his attitude. "Look, I'm sorry our meeting wasn't…ideal, but -,"

"Ideal?" He scoffed, "do you know how close I was to dragging you out of there?"

Reflexively, I crossed my arms over my chest. "I'm sorry I scared you -,"

"You didn't scare me."

I huffed, my temper flaring. "What? Did you think I managed to break into the house, get the water and power turned on, and then just helped myself to a shower?" I waited for an answer, but didn't get one. I breathed, "I'm sorry," I said again, unable to help myself. "This all happened really fast and…I didn't expect…any of it." I meant much more than just the house.

"_You_ didn't expect any of it," he countered. "Try giving a little notice next time before you come barging onto my property."

"_Your_ -," I stopped. He wasn't letting it go; he seemed determined to put me in my place. I hated men like this. "My mother died and left me the house; we didn't realize this would _inconvenience_ you." With that, I turned and stormed back into the house and then, because I was feeling mean, I flipped off the porch light, leaving Edward alone in the dark.


	4. Four: Shower For Two, Or Not

Author's Note: Hi, thanks for the great response to this story!

Nice reviews are better than chocolate, unless maybe you're licking that chocolate off someone.

* * *

Four: Shower For Two…Or Not

"He was crass and rude and…and -,"

"Good looking?" Rose asked.

"That man is going to be absolutely unbearable."

"Has anyone ever told you, you sound a little like Jane Austen when you're mad?" She leaned back in her chair, her mother on one side, Alice on the other. We were on the back porch after another much too early walk-through of the house; renovations were beginning and I was doubly irritated. For the next two weeks I would be without a shower, two weeks being a rough estimate though Esme assured me it was unlikely to go over.

"I think you should give him a chance, if for nothing else than the desire for a civil landlord/tenant relationship," Esme put both hands around her coffee mug.

"You didn't see the way he looked at me…can't I just evict him or something?" I thought back to the night before. I wondered if Edward automatically hated everyone on sight like that.

"I'm afraid not," Esme answered.

"You should just go over there and talk to him," that was Alice's solution to everything and for her, had a staggering success rate. "He was probably just embarrassed, he can't still be mad."

"I wouldn't doubt it."

She grabbed my untouched cup of coffee and stood up, "we'll come with you."

That sounded worse than going alone. "No, it's early…,"I was already standing up. I couldn't articulate what the sway was that Alice held over people, but regardless, something like that should have been bottled and sold to the masses.

"So we'll give him coffee, like a peace offering." She tugged on my sleeve and motioned for Rose, who huffed lightly, but stood as well.

"Mom?"

She smiled, "you're on your own with this one. I need to check in with your father anyway." She gave us one of those you-silly-girls expressions while I attempted a help me look with my eyes that she was quite familiar with, but ignored anyway.

"So, can I use one of your showers since I don't have one?" This was my brilliant attempt at distraction which hardly ever worked, but didn't stop me from trying. We made our way down to Edward's house regardless of my proverbial foot dragging.

"Yeah," Alice spoke up (she lived closer), "but wouldn't it be easier to just ask Edward?" She had that smile, that I'm-going-to-do-something-bad smile. "He's closer than I am."

"You can't possibly be serious." I knew she was, but I needed to say something for posterity's sake. She meant what she said of course and it became her new reason for arriving unannounced at his door; the coffee now acting as the bribe. Though, considering his attitude the night prior, it was going to take a lot more than coffee. I sighed and raised my hand to knock; I really wasn't in the mood for this. I knocked and waited exactly two seconds. "Not here, let's go." I stepped back just as I heard the door open.

Edward looked…exhausted, which made me think we'd woken him up, but he was dressed already, for the most part. He wore jeans that looked like they were about to fall off and a towel slung over one shoulder and that was the extent of it. And my immediate and completely physical reaction to him was so strong I almost forgot I couldn't stand him and I definitely forgot why we were all standing here in the first place. He cleared his throat once and my eyes darted up to his face from where they'd been lingering somewhere around the spot where his jeans were hanging carelessly off his hips. "What?" He asked with enough irritation that I remembered the personality attached to the body, to the really, really nice body…

"Uh…," Rose nudged me into coherency, "we brought you coffee."

Alice handed it to him brightly, that same mischievous grin on her face as she eyed him with frank appreciation. "Hi, I'm Ali-,"

"Thanks," he said before promptly shutting the door in our faces.

I gestured toward the door angrily. "See what I mean?"

Alice looked at the empty hand that had been holding the mug.

I turned away with Rose and walked down the porch steps. "I bet we could get him to move out," she suggested.

"What did you have in mind?" I was all for it.

I heard Alice behind me, still on the porch. "Well, I just won't stand for that." She knocked five times in rapid fire succession.

I stage whispered, "Alice!" Like that was going to do any good. I rubbed a hand over my face; this was much too much for eight o'clock in the morning. Rose and I stayed in our semi hiding place at the foot of the stairs to listen because, despite the hour, this had the potential to be very interesting.

The door opened and I heard Edward mumbling something to do with working and then, though we couldn't see to be sure, Alice waltzed right into his house. Rose looked at me and I looked at her and then we crept back up the stairs, dimwitted secret agent style. "I don't hear yelling," she commented.

We both jumped when the door swung open a moment later. "Well same to you!" She strode down the stairs in a huff and we obediently followed.

I heard Edward from the doorway, "that doesn't even make sense!"

Alice's cheeks were flushed in a way that only happened when she was angry; she was holding my partially emptied cup of coffee; she flicked her wrist and dumped it in the lawn.

"What the hell?" Rose broke the ice a moment later.

"I do _not_ like that man. And yes, Bella, you can use my shower while they're working on yours."

"Uh, thanks."

We all went our separate ways after that, leaving the house in the care of Rose's parents. Much to my non-amusement, I spent most of my working day thinking about our little morning altercation. Alice had very forwardly asked for the use of Edward's shower on my behalf and suffice to say, he refused. So I would be commuting across town every morning just to get clean. I supposed I could use the showers at the university, but I didn't trust any of those floors with my health and well being.

By the end of the day, I was toast. Between back to back appointments, training new peer counselors, Edward's rudeness, the house and the thing the stood above it all – my overwhelming heartache over my mother, all I wanted was to take a hot shower and sink into bed. But I couldn't do that because I had no damn shower. And I didn't want to bother Alice or Rose at the end of an undeniably long working day. So, I gathered my things and trudged out to my baby.

On the drive home, it started raining, which was just as well. Actually, I didn't mind the rain so much; I had gotten used to it living with my father and found it to be relaxing when sleep was evading me. I had a feeling that might be happening that night. I parked on my side of the fork in the driveway and climbed out, my legs stiff from sitting all day. I half heartedly covered my head with a newspaper and carefully made my way around the forming puddles. I stuck the key in the lock and tried to remember the trick I'd figured out to open it; you had to almost pull the key out and then lift a little, turn, and open.

And as much as I loved Carlisle and Esme, I was glad to see the house empty when I walked inside. I dropped my things just inside the door and stepped out of my shoes before climbing the stairs toward the bedroom. It was too early for bed, but I had nothing else to do and Eyre was calling my name from the bedside table. I stripped out of my - just this side of -soaked clothing and pulled on my favorite t-shirt, which was given to me as a gag gift, but had become one of my official after work tops. After that, a pair of boxers and socks and an elastic to pull back my hair.

I settled back against my pillows and got an entire half page read before I started losing interest, not because of the material, but something else that I couldn't name. I shut the book and stared at the ceiling, then turned onto my side and stared at the nightstand. Finally, I just set the book down and reached for the photograph that had decided my fate, looking at it like I might find something new. In it, my mom wasn't wearing any make-up, but I could see the red of my grandmother's lipstick despite the pictures aging. My mother's hair was long, past her shoulders, and wavy like mine; she looked wild compared to my grandmother, with her carefully pinned up-do. But they had the same smile; I remembered that. And that same look about them sometimes, like they had a secret that made them grin when they thought no one was looking. I hoped I had something of them in me.

I heard a noise then, a low creaking sound in the hallway that snapped me back into reality; it sounded the same as when Edward stormed in the night before, but I was pretty sure no one else was here. I put the picture down and sat up, holding my breath. _It's just the house settling…it's just…_There it was again, that single long ominous creak of something moving over the floorboards. I clutched my hands tightly into the bedspread. "Hello?" I was trying not to be afraid of what was probably nothing – or, more likely to me in that moment - what was probably the last sound I'd ever hear. I leaned forward, straining my ears for the sound, but all I could hear was my frantic heartbeat. _This is it_, I thought to myself.

And then knocking.

My breath caught tightly in my throat as I stood up. It sounded like the front door. _Did Leatherface ever knock?_ _No_, I answered myself, _it was his house to begin with_. I walked as silently as one could in a house that was almost one hundred fifty years old to the stairs, hoping I would be able to see whoever it was through the fanlight above the front door. But no such luck. They knocked again. I took the stairs at a slow step, pause, step pace and though I could now see out the little window, I didn't see a face. More quickly, I strode to the door and looked out a thin side window – no one, just the dark of the night and the sound of the rain. Feeling brave, or just stupid, I unlocked and opened the door. With no light on, it was almost impossible to make out the movement at the bottom of the porch steps. Almost.

"Edward?" I said, more out of hope than actual recognition. If I had to choose between it being Edward and it being a psychopath with a chainsaw, I chose Edward. Not that it was saying much.

He turned around and took a couple steps up, until he was covered by the balcony that stretched overhead; he pulled down the hood of his sweatshirt. He was soaked from the rain and appeared to being wearing…

"Are those galoshes?" I asked, unable to suppress a smile.

He looked at me dryly, "nice shirt," was his sarcastic reply.

My shirt read – _Shakespeare is My Homeboy_. I reddened reflexively.

We stared at each other in a silent challenge before I relented. "Come in," I opened the door wider. He stomped his feet a couple times, loosening the mud and leaves before stepping through to the entryway. I held on to the doorknob with one hand, reluctant to close myself in the house with him. "What, uh…what do you want?"

He ran a hand through his damp hair; it stuck out oddly. "Well hello to you too."

I rolled my eyes, but didn't say anything. Instead I caught myself staring again; I couldn't see his form because of the sweatshirt, so instead I stared at his face. It reminded me of moonlight, very pale, like he'd never seen the sun. Really, this man was obscenely good looking. I listened to the heavy rain, trying to distract myself.

I noticed he didn't fiddle with his hands or shift his weight though his voice sounded vaguely nervous. "Sorry about…earlier."

I didn't know which earlier he was talking about, storming into the house or slamming his door in my face.

"Both earliers," he answered, as if reading my mind.

I looked down, "it's fine." I was still holding the doorknob, playing with the lock. "So…," I started.

"I wanted to say that…if you'd like, you can use my shower while yours is being fixed."

I looked back up at him, letting out a surprised, "oh…it's alright, my friend said I could use hers."

"The little one?" He asked, a tiny smirk appearing.

"Her name is Alice."

"She doesn't like me very much," he grinned just slightly; it was a good look on him.

"Not even a little bit." I didn't know why I'd just said that.

"Regardless, you shouldn't have to drive just to use the shower."

"I don't mind." I countered.

"It would make me feel better if you did." He looked down at me, slightly annoyed at admitting it I guessed.

"You mean it would ease your conscience after last night?" I didn't know why I said that either, something about this man had me all bothered.

"No, that's…," he made a sound of frustration, "would you just use it?"

"Fine," I gave in. "I get up at seven, can I use my key?"

"That's fine." Now that he was finished, he seemed unsure of what to do. He brought his hood back up over his messy hair. "Well, alright then." He stepped out into the rain.

At the last second, I ran out onto the porch and called to him, "Edward?"

He turned around, the rain drenching his shoulders and everywhere else it touched; he looked up at me.

"Thanks," I said, shifting my weight awkwardly.

And then he did that smile, that little half smile that made me automatically smile back. As if giving in, he jogged back up onto the porch; I took an automatic step back. He lifted his sweatshirt so I could read the t-shirt underneath. I grinned, his shirt read – _Mad, Bad, and Dangerous to Know_. He shrugged, "it's about Byron. I guess we have something in common." With that, he gave a little nod before going back out into the storm.


	5. Five: Something Surly This Way Comes

Author's Note: Hi, thanks for reading, I totally love you people. And yes, Lady Caroline Lamb is responsible for the quote about Byron on Edward's t-shirt; it's a real shirt by the way. I wanted to also mention I've officially placed the book Byron in Love on my to-read list.

Nice reviews are better than chocolate, unless maybe you're licking that chocolate off someone.

* * *

Five: Something Surly This Way Comes

Sometime during the night, the rain let up, but I had a feeling the break wouldn't last long. I woke up before my alarm and spent those stolen minutes staring out the window from the warmth of my bed. This room was situated on a corner, so there were windows on two sides. Lots of light, though the typical grey mornings didn't give off much. At a few minutes after seven, I stood up hesitantly, feeling both anxious and bone tired; I could really only account for one.

Once I stuffed my toiletries into a bag and made it down the stairs, I waffled between walking out the back door and making Edward coffee. And then I remembered his door slamming antics and the fact that it would make me late anyway, so instead I pulled on a slightly mucky pair of green rain boots and made my way across the back lawn and through the few trees that separated the houses. Edward was sitting on his front porch steps, coffee already in hand. He grinned at my approach and I felt a light, girlish fluttering in my stomach until I realized he was staring at my feet.

"Are those galoshes?" He asked sarcastically before take a slow pull from his mug. His hood was pulled up so all I could see was that stupid, smug smile.

"As a matter of fact, they are," I stomped up the stairs, taking off the accumulated dirt and being an overall brat. At the front door, my manners won out and I pulled them off, not wanting to track anything in on my heels.

"How long until you're back in your own bathroom?" The subtext being – _the sooner, the better._

"Two weeks, is that alright?"

He made a noise, but didn't say anything so I let myself in. I wondered if he was a hermit, not used to polite interpersonal dialogue. I thought about leaving some Emily Post on his doorstep, but decided it would just go to waste.

Edward's floors were dark wood like mine, not that you could see them. Every possible surface was covered in a manner that could only be properly described as structured chaos. I shut the front door behind me and paused to take it all in. There were books everywhere in various states of perusal, two antique globes on stands just off the entryway, and a typewriter – not a laptop or a regular computer – a typewriter, sitting on a card table next to a chair which also happened to be the extent of his furniture. A huge stack of white paper sat on the table, held down with a clear apple paperweight. Next to that, and spilling onto the floor, were what looked like recorders, and several spiral notebooks. And that was just the left side. Through an open door on the right was the kitchen, but I couldn't quite see how it looked, and straight back was a small hallway and two closed doors on either side.

"Are you finished, Nancy Drew?"

I froze, my hand touching the worn spine of what looked to be a very old book of essays. I couldn't bring myself to turn around.

"The bathroom is on the right." I heard him step back outside and close the door.

I spent most of my lunch break that afternoon on the phone with Alice, who was offering me no useful advice whatsoever.

"So what if you both have an unfortunate sense of style, he's still a douche bag."

I could hear the paper crinkle from whatever Alice was eating. "Did you just say douche-,"

My office door opened and the receptionist poked her head in, her expression told me she'd heard my remark. "Uh, Rosalie is here to see you." She opened the door wider to let Rose in, who looked like every man's secretarial fantasy in a black suit and sleek hair. She had decided years ago that she wanted to one day take over her father's business, but insisted he not just hand it over. So, she started from the bottom up and was well on her way to being given the reins. I had to hand it to her; the girl had outstanding work ethic. Even if she did tend to make her own hours.

I begged off with Alice to give Rose my attention. "What's up Grace Kelly?"

She flopped into the one chair in my tiny, partially underground office and kicked off her heels. "I hate wearing this crap. I don't work out five days a week so I can cover it up in polyester."

I raised an eyebrow; her outfit was definitely not synthetic.

"You know what I mean." She pulled a paper bag out of her purse and divided the contents between us. Since I'd gone back to work, she and Alice took turns having lunch with me. I didn't like the idea that I was being babysat, but didn't have the energy to argue semantics and I knew they were only trying to help. But it was becoming plain that their helping was an attempt to keep me from thinking about my mother, when most of the time that was all I wanted to do. "So," she leaned her elbows on the desk, the food spread out in front of us, "save any maladjusted college students today?"

I pulled a file out from under her croissant before she could butter it, "counsel, not save, and no, my appointments are in the afternoon today."

Rose took her sweet time eating. "So," she said again. "I was thinking I'd come by after work; Carlisle said they'd probably still be there." She must have still been in work mode, that was the only time she called her father by his first name.

I tried to read her, but came up empty. "Yeah, that's fine…why?"

She looked up from her food quickly, "I heard you got caught spying at your tenant's this morning."

My thoughts leaned toward suspicious; it was like she'd been saving that for an opportune moment. I explained to her my fleeting lapse in etiquette, you know, the part where you're not supposed to go through other people's things when they're standing right outside. Or, if you're being stringent, you're not supposed to go through other people's things ever. That little escapade ended with a lightning fast shower, a quiet thank you, and of course, eyes to the ground at all times. I literally saw nothing but his feet from the moment I stepped onto the porch.

And unfortunately for me, Alice had also told Rose about my…I don't know, attraction to him? I suppose one might call it that. Attraction, lusting after - interchangeable, yes?

"You want to jump his bones even though he's a douche?"

"What is with you and Alice and that word?"

She shrugged. "Whatever Mary Sue, you didn't answer my question."

In my head I screamed, yes! The more I thought about him in those falling off his body jeans, the more I wanted him on me in the worst way – a way that I would never actually speak about out loud. And I wasn't talking about one of those gentle, treat me like a glass ornament kind of experiences either; I had enough of that during the rest of my waking hours. What I meant was the up against the wall, so hard I couldn't walk the next day kinds of experiences. Secretly, I always thought women deserved that at least once in their lifetime. But, again, all of that was better left between me and my imagination. So, instead I said, "I think he's good looking, but he's not really my type."

I pulled up to the house later on, just as the sun was settling in behind the trees, with Rose right behind me. I wondered what she needed to tell her father that she couldn't say over the phone. I watched her fiddle with her hair before getting out, smoothing a few loose strands into the twist at her neck; the self consciousness was a little disconcerting. After watching her straighten out her suit, I heard the rumble of another vehicle coming up the drive. I recognized Alice's little sport's car.

How did we all manage to arrive at the same time like that? I grinned to myself as I shut my car door, _must be a soul mate thing._

_We were at Alice's house, having convinced her mother to let us camp out in the backyard. Her dad made us s'mores while Rose and I brought the other sugary treats that were sure to keep us up all night. Sometime well after midnight and after Alice's second scary story, we were giggling and finishing each other's sentences…_

"_How do we do that all the time?" I asked around a piece of red licorice._

"_It's a soul mate thing," Alice replied._

"_You can't have a friend soul mate," Rose rebutted, reaching for the bag of marshmallows._

"_Sure you can."_

Alice parked behind Rose and hopped out, a canvas grocery bag in hand. "Hi ladies." She wore a long sweater over her ballet attire and had switched her pointe shoes for boots.

"Is there an AA meeting here I wasn't aware of?" I asked.

"Funny you should mention that," Alice pulled out a bottle of wine. "Feel like falling off the wagon?"

"Are we celebrating something?"

"Tuesday? Or how about the start of your new home?"

We followed Rose up to the house; the front door was unlocked. She looked hesitant to open it, but not because it wasn't her house; Alice nudged me with her elbow and I shrugged. We waited for Rose to work herself up for whatever it was she was doing, straighten her shoulders, and walk inside while we hurried to catch up.

Carlisle stood in the foyer rolling up a set of plans; he smiled when we came in. "Girls, what a pleasant surprise!" Rose's parents had always referred to us as girls even though we were old enough to bear children without getting scandalous glances in public. "We were just finishing up," he kissed Rose on the cheek, "let me get your mother, she's still upstairs."

The three of us waited near a wall in the entryway and watched construction workers slowly file out of the house. Alice whispered, "I love parades."

And then the burliest man I'd ever seen in my life came walking down the stairs. His arms strained the material of his t-shirt, and he was covered in plaster dust from the top of his curly black hair to the bottoms of his work boots. He wiped his face with a dark flannel shirt. A few steps from the bottom, he noticed us, or rather, he noticed Rose. A slow grin formed and immediately, she had his complete attention. I looked between them; an earthquake wouldn't have distracted those two. He stopped a couple of yards away and gave her a small nod, "hi Rosalie." He twisted the flannel shirt in his hands once before bringing it up to hang off his left shoulder.

She grinned and though the light in the room was dim, I would have bet money that I saw her blushing. Hell had officially frozen over. "Hi, Emmett."

"Hello girls, sorry we ran a little late today," Esme announced in greeting at the top of the stairs. She quickly made her way down and patted Emmett's arm. "Good work today, see you tomorrow," she smiled up at him.

He nodded at her and then looked at us, dimples showing when he smiled, "good night ladies."

We said nothing, our faces surprised – in a very pleasant way. Except Rosalie, who purred a quiet "good night" back to him. When I finally looked at her, she seemed dizzy.

Once we said goodbye to Carlisle and Esme, Alice started digging. In her usual subtle way. "Ok, you two could have been having sex on the stairs and it wouldn't have been more obvious." She said as soon as the front door closed for good.

Rose grabbed the wine bottle from her, "I don't know what you're talking about." She walked past the stairs to the kitchen at the back of the house.

Alice handed me the grocery bag before going out for the second bag and bottle left in her car. I found Rose in the kitchen, pulling open drawers. "Don't you have an opener?"

"Sorry, I don't do much solitary drinking." I set the bag down and dug through it, knowing Alice had probably thought of this potential problem already, which she had. I handed the wine opener to her; I didn't know how to use it, but Rose's expertise was diverse. The bottle opened with a pop. "I have glasses -,"

Rose took a slow drink straight from the bottle.

"Are you alright?"

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Yeah, fine…glasses?"

"Cupboard right behind you, next to the sink."

She turned around and started talking; it was easier for her that way. "I'm not supposed to date within the company." She pulled down three glasses single handedly.

"But I thought some of the construction work was contracted out?"

She poured without looking and didn't spill a drop; her back was still turned. "It is, but we use the same people, so they count as within the company." She took a small drink, "did you _see_ him? It's like torture." She refilled her glass to make up for the sip and then faced me when we heard the front door close.

"How long has this -,"

"A few months, give or take."

I gave her a small smile, I felt for her, being so close and not able to take that last step.

Alice picked that moment to walk in; she looked at us both, wallowing in our own private miseries. "I'm glad I brought two bottles."

We cooked, well, I cooked. And we indulged in enough alcohol to sail away on, middle of the week be damned. Now, I'm not typically a melancholy drunk and neither are my friends, but there was something about that night that had me down. It wasn't specifically my mother, or the house, or even Edward; it was just this general undertow that was pulling me with it. By eleven o'clock, after a lengthy debate on whether or not Mark Wahlberg's penis was a prosthetic in the final scene of Boogie Nights, Rose and Alice passed out in my bedroom.

In true wino fashion, I took the last bottle with me when I walked out onto the back porch. In my feeble defense, it was almost empty anyway. I didn't really want to drink it; I just liked the feel of having it nearby. I pulled a sweatshirt on and sat on the steps, watching the moon reflect off the pond. I thought about how maybe my mother did this very same thing and I wondered if she'd been happy in her new life or if she ever thought about coming back. I guessed the former; I could see in her eyes how much she loved Phil. I saw it in the way she made it work, regardless of schedules and inconvenience and all those 'what-ifs'. She was so brave.

I could hear Edward before I saw him. The alcohol had dulled my fear of impending violent death via fictional movie villains, so instead I sat there and waited for him to move into the bright light of the almost full moon.

"Oh," he said when he came into view, pulling down the hood of his sweatshirt.

"Oh what?" I leaned back on one hand; the other grasped the bottle by the neck.

He stood at the foot of the steps; if I leaned forward I could grab the waistband of his pants. "Nothing, I didn't think anyone was awake." He looked at me a moment. "You smell like a distillery."

I rolled my eyes, "so sorry to offend you."

Before I could stop him, he walked up the steps and sat down with me, grabbing the bottle from my hand. He squinted in the dim light. "At least you don't have it in a paper bag." He took a pull from the bottle, finishing it off.

"Hey," I complained, "did I say you could…what are you doing here?" I brought both hands down to the step, trying and failing to hold myself steady.

"Hang on a minute," he stood up and walked right into the house.

I was spinning enough sitting down, so I let him get on with it without interruption. And also, apropos of nothing, he smelled good. Like clean and something almost woodsy. The slam of the porch door startled me. He sat back down with a water bottle. "It's probably too late, but drink this." He undid the cap and handed it to me.

I brought it to my lips, unnerved by the way he was looking at me. Or I could have just been making that up. "What are you doing here?"

"I was taking a walk, I couldn't sleep."

"A walk through my back yard?"

"A walk around the property." He leaned forward, looked at his hands.

"Around the property is usually defined as _around_, not through." I stuck a finger in the air, once in a circle, and then a quick slash through the middle, drunkenly and definitively proving my point.

He made a noise, "whatever."

"Ok, valley girl." I took another drink.

"You're a smartass even when you're drunk." He glanced back at me.

"You're just easy."

He sat back so we were eye to eye. "I'm easy?"

It took me a second before I got the double meaning. "I didn't mean it like that." I felt the heat rising and hoped he wouldn't be able to tell.

His eyes seemed to search my face and I wasn't sure if it was the dizziness, but I thought he leaned closer, or maybe I did. "So, how did you mean it?"

I could smell the wine on both of us and I knew the meager swallow he had wasn't enough to do anything to him, but still, I wasn't understanding any of this. "I…,"

He leaned even closer and his eyes darted to my mouth. "Well?"

I licked my lips and stared. What was the question? The flush in my cheeks fanned out as he touched my face with the back of his fingers. I started thinking that if he were to throw me down right here on these back steps, Rose and Alice probably wouldn't hear as intoxicated as they'd been earlier. And then, just as quickly as the thought came to me, it vanished, along with Edward's cool fingers.

He stood up and it did not elude me that I was suddenly eye level with his crotch. "Well," he pulled his hood up, "good night."

I watched him as he strode back through the trees toward his house; I listened for the sound of his door closing, but all I heard was the dull thud of his feet on his own porch steps.

I looked back out at the pond, feeling my heart beat. "Good night."


	6. Six: Sexual Frustration and Me

Author's Note: Hi lovelies, thanks for reading. Also, I put up a lengthy update of what I'm currently working on for you guys on my homepage; you can get to the link through my profile on here.

Nice reviews are better than chocolate, unless maybe you're licking that chocolate off someone.

* * *

Six: Sexual Frustration And Me

I thought very seriously about calling in sick to work the next day and then I remembered that I'd probably see more people in my house than in my office. So, when my alarm went off promptly at seven; I was decided. A little hung over and possibly even still intoxicated, but determined nonetheless.

I heard an angry grumble on my left over the shrill tone of my alarm. "Will somebody turn that shit off?"

Reaching over, I fumbled for my phone, hitting buttons blindly until the ringing stopped. I leaned up on my elbows, a little confused as to why the three of us were in my bed. "Oh," I remembered, "dear."

"I think you mean fuck," Alice groaned using her favorite catch phrase on Rose's other side.

"Please stop yelling," Rose rolled onto her back. "Why do I always end up sleeping with you people?"

Alice pulled the blanket over her face. "Because we're easy."

"Speak for yourself," I stood up on wobbly legs and then remembered the part of last night that happened after they'd fallen asleep. The porch steps, Edward touching my face…had I called him easy? That word seemed to be making the rounds lately.

I had wanted him so badly I could still feel it, or possibly I just still wanted him. I pondered that as I regained my center of gravity. Having never felt that way about another person before, I was unsure of my next course of action. Progressive fantasizing? No matter, I grabbed my toiletry bag and looked at the girls, who were in worse shape than I was.

Rose buried her face in my pillow. "What time is my dad getting here?"

"Around eight, maybe a little after."

"Wake us up before that, ok?"

I told her I would and then closed the door behind me.

Outside, the cold air was a shock to my systems and internal regulators; I leaned over the porch railing, trying to get my bearings. _I will not throw up in my own back yard; I'm a grown-up_. I stumbled through the grass to Edward's, focusing intently on walking straight…straighter…or, at least not into a tree.

Edward was on the porch again, looking exactly the same as the morning before, except this time he had food. The smell of warm cream cheese and bagel made me nauseous. There was something else too, something red, but I was getting dizzy again. Edward chuckled, "you look like shit."

I swallowed, "yeah, well, same to you." That was a lie, of course. If you didn't count an instantaneous hangover cure, what I wanted most was for him to take that sweatshirt off so I could see his body again.

He looked amused as he stood and walked with me up the steps. "Here…I just can't…you look so pitiful."

I faced him and leaned back on my heels, partially from the spins and partially because I didn't realize how close he was, "you just can't what?" I wasn't in the mood to fling witty insults that morning.

"Here," he said again, thrusting a partially eaten bagel at me. "You need to eat something."

I made a face, "no thanks."

"It'll help you feel better." He stepped closer, too close for a casual…whatever we were. "Trust me." He grabbed my hand and plopped the bagel on my palm before resuming his guard duties on the steps. With his back to me he said, "water, aspirin, and the rest of my strawberries are on the counter already…and finish that bagel."

I hadn't really noticed the strawberries as preoccupied as I was with imagining him and I demonstrating various feats of sexual athleticism around his house. And the whole staying upright thing. I muttered a quick thank you and followed his directions and, much to my annoyance, halfway through my shower I noticed I was starting to feel better. How many hangovers must one cure before they become an expert on the subject? It was during that thought that I began having déjà vu, that is, I heard the creaking of floorboards outside the bathroom door again. I stopped my hands mid-shampoo to listen to the sound of the door opening cautiously; I sucked in a breath, observing that this was exactly the beginning of one of those progressive fantasies I'd been having.

"I didn't come in to spy, if that's what you're wondering."

"Then what do you want?" I stood under the water to wash the suds from my hair, my irritation going up with my body temperature.

"I left you a towel on the counter, the one you used yesterday is mine."

I snorted, "sorry to leave my germs on it." I really needed to _attempt_ to hold my tongue when he was around, but I couldn't seem to help myself.

When he spoke again, he sounded much closer to the shower curtain; I could see his silhouette through the thin plastic. Granted this one was not transparent, it still left very little between us. "I see you're feeling better. You're welcome, by the way."

I rubbed conditioner into my hair, "you don't see anything…and thanks, by the way." I attributed my lack of normal social graces to the fact that I keenly wanted to put Edward in his place, not to mention that in a deeply perverse way, I wanted him to put me in mine. I had this overwhelming desire to peek around the dark curtain to see his face, but in some turn of fortune, the door closed at the same time my hand gripped the wet material. I rinsed off, convincing myself that my insanity was temporary and due entirely to alcohol consumption; I vowed to stop immediately – the insanity and the drinking. Or, failing that, at least keep one or the other under control.

Once I was out, dry, and properly moisturized, I brushed my teeth and slipped back into my pajamas to make the trek to my own house where the goddesses of drunk nights passed were waiting for me to wake them up.

When I opened the bathroom door, I saw that Edward had lost the sweatshirt as well as any shirt he might have been wearing underneath. He sat at his card table, bent over a stack of paper with a red pen, crossing things out in swift lines and writing in the margins. He was right handed.

"Enjoying the view?"

Yes, as a matter of fact, I was. Regardless, I felt myself flush and I scrambled for something to say that brought the topic away from me, but also didn't mention his near nakedness; I took a final second to stare at the tight bands of muscle under his skin; I tilted my head, watched him roll his shoulders to loosen them. "Why are there sticky notes on the doors in the other house?" It really was something I'd been wondering about in my oft bouts of free time, but not something I would have brought up had I not been pressed for conversation topics.

The night previous, in our curious stupor, Alice, Rose and I had toured the house for the names.

Reading from the bottom floor, up: Nicholas Ramsey, Samantha Turley, Catherine Forester, Elizabeth Jones, Benjamin Canter, Phillip Gardiner, and Alice King.

Alice was especially averse to the door with her first name. "No way in _hell_ am I sleeping in there." She took a drink from the wine bottle and gave it to Rose, who agreed with her.

I didn't get it. "Why on earth not?"

Rose frowned, "there's something about that name…_King_…," she shuddered over-dramatically in distaste and took a drink.

"It's the haunted room," Alice nodded as the three of us stared at the closed door.

"It's the guest room," I replied, dryly. "You're not all sleeping in my bed." I stood firm on that.

Edward cleared his throat, bringing me out of the memory. "It's none of your business. You can take them down if you'd like." His back was still turned, which was enormously distracting. His body looked strong and I had a new desire to reach over and run my hands down his shoulders to see if he was soft as well.

I leaned on one leg, "why not?"

He huffed out a breath and finally faced me, "are you always so annoying?"

"Are you always so evasive?" How could I, in my right mind, be attracted to this man?

He chuckled. "No, not always."

"I feel so special."

He kept laughing.

"Alright, whatever, I'll see you tomorrow."

I walked out and tried not to think about how good he looked when he smiled.

Waking up Rose and Alice turned into an exercise of patience; they tossed and groaned until a well placed, "I think Emmett's here", got Rose into an immediate mostly vertical position.

Alice grinned, awake, but still in bed.

Rose gave us both an un-amused glare. "How was your shower with Edward?"

"I didn't – never mind…it was fine." I pulled on my slacks.

"_With_ Edward?" Alice sat up.

That was my cue to take my leave; I finished buttoning my shirt on the way down the stairs, thankful that I was always too tired to put my shoes and purse anywhere but the floor space next to the front door.

The work day was slow, most preparations for the upcoming semester finished already. With classes starting the next Monday, I was happy with the extra time while I still had it.

Rose came with lunch again that afternoon; Alice must have been busy. She handed me a little take-out carton of chow mein, looking particularly bright eyed all things considered. I noticed she was wearing the same thing as the day before, but had managed to rework it to look like a completely different outfit. "Is that my necklace?" I stared suspiciously at the long silver chain around her neck.

She touched it, "I needed an accessory."

I wondered about that, and her choice in clothes. "You never even left the house, did you?"

She shrugged, "I ran out of time."

How she could wake up hung over, skip a shower, put on a day old suit, and still look as good as she did was beyond my realm of understanding. Now, _why_ she would do that… "You stayed around to see Emmett, didn't you," I raised an eyebrow.

"No…well yes, but I was just looking." She looked happy and miserable at the same time.

I softened. "Your parents would understand, you can't help who you fall for."

Rose shook her head, "it's not just them. I'd have to deal with the whole company. It's hard enough being in my position as a woman, add to that…," she trailed off. "I just don't want to rock the boat right now." She leaned back, eyes lowered; I'd never seen her like that before. She was the kind of person that went right after what she wanted; confidence came off her like an aura. It hurt to see her now, unsure and absolutely heart broken.

I knew I might regret it later, but at that moment I was willing to say anything to lift her spirits. Was this the wisest choice for a tension breaker? No, but it was the most effective. "I think I'm in lust with my tenant."

Rose choked on a piece of broccoli. "You're what?" She didn't wait for a reply, "I don't think I've ever heard you say the word lust before. Please, seduce him immediately."

"Rosalie!" I didn't know what other reaction I was expecting.

"What? Do you need to be reminded of the last time you had sex? Remember the jack rabbit guy?"

I remembered; the man's idea of foreplay was unzipping his pants. "I forgot I shared that with you." I waited for her to stop laughing before I continued. "Anyway, I can't seduce Edward-,"

"Why not?"

For one thing, I didn't know how to seduce anybody. "I'm his landlord."

She waved me off. "Who cares? I can think of some really great landlord/tenant fantasies you could try out."

_Ha, so could I_, I thought to myself.

That afternoon, in a fit of sexual frustration and annoyance that my mother's house still did not feel like my home, I went for a run around my slightly soggy property. I asked myself again, why did she give me this place? I listened for an answer, but all I could hear was the sound of my shoes as I ran over the grass. I jogged through the thick tree cover, wanting more than anything for my mother to be there. The feeling pressed down on my shoulders until it was too heavy to run anymore and I felt like if I kept trying, it would push me down right into the wet ground. I slowed near the pond and took the two steps up into the gazebo that overlooked the water. It was very old and empty, but swept clean and the chipping paint, to me, made it look better.

I leaned on the rail and looked down at the water. Despite the perpetually damp grass hidden by the shade of the trees, it had been sunny that day. I looked around, I could hear no voices in the direction of my house, but I couldn't be completely sure about it's vacancy – potential specters not included. I also looked at Edward's house, which sat closer than my mother's; the blinds were closed as usual and I couldn't remember if I'd seen his car in the drive.

It didn't matter, I decided. I pulled off my shoes without untying them and then took off my sweatshirt as well. Taking one more glance behind me, I slipped off my t-shirt and pants once I was sure I was alone. What I was left with was close enough to a bikini and therefore would suit my purposes just fine. My mind wandered; _did I even own a bikini? _I stepped out of my partial shelter and tip toed down to the dock, hoping the water was warmer than the ground. I walked to the very edge of the wide wooden planks and then, with no thought whatsoever that it might be shallow, I dove in. And it was deep, plenty deep. And that kind of cool that wakes you up gently. I came up for air and as soon as I broke the surface, I remembered something.

"_Isabella, watch your mommy!" My grandmother sat me next to her; she pointed down the dock and clapped. "Here she goes!" _

_I watched, my attention solely on my mother in her favorite bathing suit. It was exactly like the one Deborah Kerr wore in From Here to Eternity, I would learn later. She walked to the very edge; so far I thought for sure she would fall right in, but she never did. She knew exactly what she was doing. She stretched up on her toes and then down, and then raised her arms over her head. I smiled; she always turned her head just before she dove to make sure I was watching. I waved when she did with my free hand, my other holding the grilled cheese Gran had made me for lunch._

"_Ready?" She asked._

"_Ready!" I put the sandwich down on the blanket that we used to keep from getting slivers from the wood planks._

_And then she faced front, held still for one quiet moment, and dove in. Her dive was so smooth it hardly caused a splash. It was always right then that I knew my mother was magical; she was the most perfect thing I'd ever seen. _

_I leaned forward, concentrating hard, waiting for her to come back up. This part made me nervous and I think it made my grandmother nervous too. She would stay under for so long. But she always came back smiling._

I relaxed in the water, floating on my back as I remembered that summer. We lived off of lemonade and sandwiches and sunlight. We all smelled like sunblock and shampoo; it never rained.

"Hey," I heard a familiar voice call to me from the shore, before hearing the tell-tale splash of someone diving in.


	7. Seven: This Is Entirely Inappropriate

Author's Note: Thank you's all around and read on, note's at the bottom.

Nice reviews are better than chocolate, unless maybe you're licking that chocolate off someone.

* * *

Seven: This Is Entirely Inappropriate

I remember this one time, after my parent's divorce and during the awkward shuffle between Washington and Florida, I was staying with my mother when I accidentally (but not really) listened in on one of her telephone conversations. My mom had remarried only a year after the divorce, which had hurt my father tremendously though he wouldn't admit it. But the marriage soothed Renee, centered her, and she seemed happy when I came to visit after school let out in June.

And I was happy too, I was officially a senior in high school and Renee seemed to actually want to take care of me while I was there, instead of the other way around. We slept late, went jogging in the morning (which I hated at the time, but it would later become a near daily habit) and ate food out of paper containers when Phil wasn't there.

It was also during that time I first truly realized that my mother wasn't just my mother. It's difficult to explain and looking back, makes me feel vaguely selfish, but until that point I had never actually realized that my mother was something else as well. That she had her own life and desires, goals and heartaches. She was this whole other person that I had finally begun to discover.

Anyway, that realization had a trigger. A week into my time with Renee, she'd let me go back to sleep instead of joining her for our morning run. When I finally woke up, she was already back.

_I stumbled half awake to the kitchen, hoping to find enough eggs for omelets for the both of us, but when I got to the open doorway I saw that she was on the phone. Not wanting to be rude, I took a step back and I was going to keep going until I heard her side of the conversation._

"_So let me ask you this, how was the sex?" My mom giggled into the phone, asking that question without a trace of embarrassment. I felt my own face flush a rosy pink. "Why not?" She asked. "You need to take him for a test drive, how else are you going to know?" She laughed again and I felt my mouth open in shock at my mother's brazenness. "Seriously, go for it." _

That was the advice my mother gave to everyone about everything. A zip line tour in Costa Rica? Go for it. Spelunking in New Mexico? Go for it. I was thinking about that when I saw Edward shake water from his hair as he broke the pond's surface.

The late afternoon sun brought color to his face and made his wet skin shine. I was rooted in place, softly treading water, watching as he closed his eyes, allowing himself to float on his back. Transfixed was an appropriate definition of my state; I stared at the droplets of water rolling off his bare chest to rejoin the pond, helpless to say or do anything. He laid there motionless, every few seconds making the tiniest of movements to stay above the water.

I knew I was watching.

Edward knew I was watching.

His lips turned up into a smirk. "Were you going to say hello back?"

Had he said something? I couldn't think; he was only wearing boxers. "Hello," I relayed on autopilot. Sometimes I wished he simply wouldn't speak so I could enjoy his presence without embarrassment or irritation. I searched for something to say to prove I wasn't the idiot I'm pretty sure he thought I was. I could only come up with a mumbled, "nice day for a swim."

Edward tilted his head, squinting to look at me. "Hmm?"

I didn't respond for a long enough time that it caught his attention and he grinned, like he knew exactly what he did to me. I was about to say something rude to wipe the stupid smile off his face when he suddenly went under water. I stared at the space he'd occupied moments ago, trying to see where he was.

That is, until I felt hands wrap around my ankles.

Instinctively, I screamed.

And even though it only took a second before I realized it was Edward, I still kicked my foot out, hoping to connect with his too pretty head. I only connected with water.

His hands were still touching me. His fingertips brushed up the backs of my legs until I thought for sure he would have to tow me back to shore for CPR.

When he finally surfaced I expected that same smug expression from before, but not the look he was displaying now. It was hard to name and skimming through my mental file cabinets, I knew that no one had ever looked at me like that.

It was like…seeing an oasis after days of blinding heat in the desert. Laying out a feast for a starving man. Telling someone with no self control – look, but do not touch.

Edward's body was close, too close for sensible thought on my part. He watched me like he was waiting for an opening, my own personal loosening of morals. Still I said nothing. So he moved closer and with the languid back and forth motion of the water, our legs touched and he found the sign he was looking for. His mouth found mine and then I didn't know who was starving, him or myself. My hands tried to find purchase against him; I gripped his shoulders which caused us to sink deeper into the water, though we didn't care. I felt his tongue lap slowly against mine once before we went under, our bodies never breaking contact. He yanked us up roughly and pulled me forward while he swam backward toward shallower water. At the place where his feet touched bottom, mine didn't so he grabbed me up by the waist so I could wrap my legs around him; he kept me above water. I felt his teeth graze my lower lip.

It was around that damned time reality began setting in. I wondered briefly how many people were still inside my house and of those, who would be able to see down here? Not to mention the fact that I was almost certain Edward hated me.

He seemed to sense my distraction and bit me on the neck.

I spoke on a moan, "I don't think we should be doing this." But still, I tilted my head back, giving him access to my throat.

He growled in reply and readjusted my lower body so I was pressed against him more firmly.

And yet unbidden, worries grasped and pulled at my attention. What if this was some kind of entertainment, make me willing and pliable just so he could say he did. I didn't know him at all, what if?

_Oh, what if, what if, what if…_

I tried one last time half heartedly as his mouth heated a path across my collarbone. "This is…entirely…inappropriate."

"Prude," he mumbled against my chest, slipping down the straps of my bra; his tongue snaking over the lace. And then his teeth…

_Oh hell_.

_Go for it._

I pulled his hair. "Cretin."

I felt the bounce of his laugh and gave up entirely when I felt the fingers of one hand moving my underwear aside. I let him. And he knew exactly what to do. I felt him brush across me once before slipping a finger inside; he made a deep noise low in his throat as I both tightened and fell limp in his arms.

"Look at me," he ordered. I did and he licked his lips.

My eyes focused on him until he started moving his hand; the other gripped me tightly, supporting my weight. When my gaze started slipping he pushed against me hard until I gasped and raised my eyes again.

Edward was _completely_ in control and knew it.

He moved slowly and then more quickly and I felt weightless, like I might be carried away entirely if not for his grasp on me.

I couldn't say if you counted the time that passed in seconds or minutes, but soon he changed his ministrations until I wrapped my arms around his neck, begging him, _please_, for release. I squirmed and pressed myself closer and there was no way I could look at him anymore, but he seemed to have forgotten about that. Instead I felt his hands on me in abandon, coaxing and urging and all-fucking-knowing until my body coiled and finally, finally let go. My eyes shut tightly and my teeth, which had been gently grazing, bit down hard.

Only when he was sure I'd come down, did Edward move his hand, sliding it across my lower back under the water. My body relaxed, but I kept my face pressed into his neck, afraid to face reality. I knew people always said it, but I had really and truly never done _anything_ like that before. Idiot. Crazy, impulsive, out of my mind idiot. The insanity I'd been so determined to keep control of had reared it's maniacal head.

And then a thought, we didn't have sex, but still…did this make me promiscuous?

The first thing I heard through my discordant and berating thoughts, past the sound of the water and our combined heavy breathing, was a car door shutting in the driveway. _Coming or going?_

I felt Edward tense where my legs were still wrapped around him, his hand that had been drawing patterns across my back stilled. "Shit."

I raised my head so we were eye to eye and I had a fleeting fear that his visitor was female. Before I could raise the question, he pulled us both so we were hidden by the gazebo. I tried to play it off. "Girlfriend?" My voice didn't sound as light as I had meant for it to be. I didn't know much, but I imagined that an overtly rude and gorgeous man who would do that to me might also have someone else.

He huffed a quiet laugh, "most assuredly not."

I unwrapped my legs and found my footing, dizzy from…well, everything.

His hands skimmed my sides, raising goosebumps. "I have to go."

"But…,"

He leaned down and kissed me once, chastely, and then again, less so. I felt his whole body hard against me and I suppressed a giggle over the knowledge that he was like that because of me. I also didn't think a promiscuous person would ever laugh over a man's erection.

We both glanced up at the sound of footsteps on his porch; Edward looked momentarily bothered before that smirk I recognized so well was set firmly back in place. His hand at the small of my back pulled me in close, really close; I had to crane my neck to see his face. He stared at me with that cocky expression that tended to make me nervous, now being no exception. "So, same time tomorrow?" He let me go and took a step toward the shore.

I stared at him blankly. "…what?"

Edward looked at me again, a towel in hand. He seemed almost, reluctant?

Now, I'm not a person that spends hours pouring over the details of a look, over analyzing a phrase or gesture, searching for intentions that may or may not be there. But, honestly…what?

I stayed in the water until he was inside his house, thinking about my mother's advice. _Go for it._

"Fudge."

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Author's Note: It didn't escape my notice that both my posts this week were of the citrus-y variety; I swear it was just a happy coincidence. A quick note on future chapters, don't be surprised if Alice says "fuck" a lot; it's one of her favorite words as of late.

And lastly, a special thank you to AmeryMarie for the pimping, go check out her awesomeness.

Reviewers get their morals loosened by Edward.


	8. Eight: Not That Kind of Girl

Author's Note: Hi everyone, I'm glad you're here! Thanks as always.

Nice reviews are better than chocolate, unless maybe you're licking that chocolate off someone.

* * *

Eight: Not That Kind of Girl

The next morning I crept through my back lawn on tip toe, agonizingly slowly, trying to keep even the dark green blades of grass from bending underneath me. I took another step until a tree blocked my line of sight; I used it as cover, hesitating a moment to gather my wits about me before dashing forward to my next hiding place behind a tall pine with a wide trunk. I put my hands on it; it was rough and cold, solid. I stayed there to slow my breathing, sure that my heartbeat would be audible to anyone in the vicinity. A quick peek around the tree told me I was still not quite close enough to discern anything. The branches were too close together, too thick with leaves for me to see through properly. I held my breath and darted forward until I was almost through to the other side.

What was I doing? Well, avoiding and evading of course.

Now I suppose at this point it bears mentioning that it wasn't a woman who showed up at Edward's door yesterday. It was a man, some blonde with wild hair and broad shoulders; I didn't see his front.

Regardless, after an evening of replaying every inch of that afternoon, I had come up with a few possibly outlandish explanations. One – he was bored and I was the closest woman he could find. Or – was it possible that he actually liked me? And his obvious lack of knowledge of all things socially acceptable made the…well…forwardness displayed yesterday his only means for communication of said affection? Or thirdly – was I simply a conquest on his journey up the sexual ladder? Or was he simply playing with me? Like an experiment to see if he could pull the uptight girl out of her shell?

My money was on one of the last two.

His porch steps were blissfully empty. With any luck, Edward would still be asleep and I would be able to shower and leave without him ever knowing I was there.

"Were you trying to be James Bond or something?"

I heard the teasing amusement before I saw his form walking through the trees a few yards away. There was no graceful, witty, or belligerent way I could think of to get myself out of this monumental awkwardness so instead I took the high road and ignored him completely.

"Or Maxwell Smart, maybe?" His voice was closer; I could hear his feet moving through the grass, wet with dew.

I crossed the side lawn and made my way up his porch steps, trying desperately not to look at the ridiculously handsome face that was attached to such a sarcastic interior.

I felt like he was pursuing me, like he would follow me into the house rather than stay on the steps as usual. His footfalls behind me became more solid as he got to the porch. He stopped walking, waiting for me to open the door. I wondered if I could just run inside and lock him out, but that would probably just make him laugh. Regardless, I planned to shut the door behind me.

He moved close enough that I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, cool, like the morning air around us. "Well," he murmured, his voice still husky from sleep, "what are you waiting for?" He reached a hand around me and turned the door knob, pushing it open slightly; I could see only up to his forearm and I remembered how he'd lifted me, held my whole body against him with that one arm. He leaned his hand on the doorframe.

I stood blankly, my lips parted as if I'd just witnessed him strip naked in front of me. I swallowed. "I'm not waiting for anything." I didn't have to turn around to know he was smirking at me. The thought made me angry. I had decided already that yesterday had been a mistake, a product of…well I wasn't sure quite yet, but something we could both move forward from without having to mention it again.

But now I had the feeling he was toying with me and I absolutely loathed game playing.

I spun around to face him, indignation pouring from me. "What is it with you?"

There was amusement in his eyes, he took a small step forward, and my back bumped the door as I leaned back. "I don't understand." He cocked his head a bit to one side; there was that crooked smirk I'd imagined.

"I…I mean," I stammered, for all my anger, I hadn't actually thought of anything to say beyond my original question. "What do you want?" It was essentially the answer I was after.

He straightened up, looked right at me with those eyes that seemed lighter a moment ago. "That should be fairly obvious."

I froze. Had I jumped into a new dimension where I was the star in some badly directed pornography? A thread of common sense came through, allowing me to respond. "You don't even know me."

Edward was closer now; I felt like the victim that knew she'd been caught, the prey quite literally backed against a wall. Or in this case, a door. "Maybe I know you better than you think." He took another step forward, forcing me backward; my heels touched the door and when it moved, I took another step into the house.

I didn't know what he was talking about; I didn't know anything. At that moment, I probably couldn't have spelled my own name.

My cool that I had tried so hard to maintain was completely lost and I was merely curious as to why I wanted to hold on to it so badly in the first place. He took another step, but I didn't move. I looked up, daring him, trying to prove something. He thought he knew me, prudish, he'd said so himself, shy, solitary. The words sounded in my head, labels I'd been stuck with my whole life. Dull. Lifeless. How could a girl like me be born from a woman as vibrant as Renee? I knew I couldn't be the only one who thought about that.

So, he thought he knew all there was to know. My anger rose at his abrupt assumptions as I met his eyes squarely.

_Come and get me_.

And before I could take in a breath, he pulled me up and against him, turning us both so my back slammed into the front door, closing it sharply. I felt his body crushed to mine, still warm despite the time outside. His tongue ran along the mark he'd made the day prior, the tiny bite on my neck. It felt proprietary. I wanted to touch more of him so I yanked at the hem of his sweatshirt, tugging it upward. He obliged, tossing it over his shoulder where it hit something which crashed to the ground.

The noise startled me and suddenly I remembered what exactly I was trying to hold on to. Maybe everyone was right in the first place. There was never very much to me, but what I had I was too afraid to let go of.

For just a split second I thought I could, but really, this wasn't me.

I pushed on his shoulder, but he seemed to like my resistance; his hands gripped me harder, my back pressed into the door. I pushed again, trying not to feel the way his fingertips had found the bare skin above my pajama bottoms. "Edward," I breathed. "Edward, stop."

Very slowly, he pulled away. His hands stayed put on my sides while he stared, bewildered. "What? What's wrong?" He was almost panting; his eyes looked black.

I shook my head, maybe at myself for being completely out of my mind. "This," I gestured between us, "this isn't right. I don't even know you…"

He touched his forehead to mine and then pushed his body closer until we were lined up. "What do you need to know? Where I went to college? What my favorite color is?" He grinned at me, teasing again.

I closed my eyes tight for a minute, trying to regain my senses. "No, but…I don't know anything about you really. And…I don't do this."

"What does it matter?" He pulled back all the way. I found I missed the contact. "What are you afraid of?" He touched my chin, lifted my face.

I didn't have the heart to tell him, could barely admit it to myself sometimes, that I was afraid of most everything. I was afraid of crowds and spiders and blood; I was afraid of not doing anything with my life and being left behind.

Edward made me nervous, but not necessarily afraid and if I let myself think about it, it wasn't so much Edward, but the possibilities he represented that really scared me. But not only that, if it were simply fear…well that I could overcome with enough determination.

It was, I don't know exactly, just something else.

I shook myself out of it; this was much too introspective for seven o'clock in the morning.

"I'm not afraid."

He didn't look entirely convinced.

Yesterday had been incredible and if I thought about it, maybe the wildest thing I'd ever done. But it was a fluke, a slip, and not me at all. I'd never done something so out of character in my life. I couldn't say if it was the timing, or him, or us together, but I couldn't just let go and let it happen again. Not with all the questions it left me with. _Is that all he wants? Who is this man? How many other women? _And the always present – _why me?_

I felt myself floundering. "I'm just not, I don't – I mean, I'm not that girl from the pond."

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, you look exactly like her."

My expression was exasperated and a little annoyed. "That's not…I'm not that kind of girl, alright? I don't do that."

"If I remember correctly, you didn't have to actually _do_ anything."

Did I mention exasperated? "You know what I mean."

He chuckled and I had this sense that I was getting nowhere so I excused myself to shower.

Afterward, I went through the motions, did the awkward dance out the door and went about my day as usual. For Edward's part, he did leave me pretty much alone, lost again in whatever it was that he was working on. The only sound was the scratch of the red pen through lines of type and the sometimes creak of the floorboards as I moved away from him.

It was Alice's day for lunch. One of these days I was going to actually leave my office during the noon hour, but not today. I toyed with my food, pulling seeds off the thick deli bread in front of me; it was strange, but Alice looked equally pensive. I wondered if she knew I was keeping my lapse in judgment from her, or if there was something else on her mind.

"I think we should have a séance." She took a large bite out of her sandwich.

"I'm sorry, what?"

She swallowed heavily, eagerness quickly replacing any doubt she may have had over the value of this idea. "A séance, for the house I mean." She nodded and I instantly regretted telling her about the various creaks, groans, and weird feelings I got while inside it. I was sure it was just because the house was old, secluded, and I was living in it by myself – mostly sure, anyway.

Tact was something I normally possess, but I didn't know how to refuse without making the plan out to be as bizarre as I thought it was. I didn't want to hurt her feelings. "Alice, I…," I tried not to be taken in by her patented look of total persuasion. "Please don't do the Bambi eyes thing."

She reconfigured her expression to one of excitement. "This is a good thing, come on! Think of the house, it'll be happier once we figure who's there and what they want."

"The house will be happier?"

"Yes, you know, a more pleasant living environment for you." She did the eyes again.

I understood it then; in typical Alice fashion, she was trying to make me happy, trying to make the house feel more like my home. How in the world could I say no to that? She recognized my defenses going down.

She clapped. "Ok, good. Rose said she'd do it if you'd do it, but that's still only three of us." She raised her eyes toward the ceiling, thinking. "Edward?"

I coughed and then froze, then trained my eyes to my desk. "I thought you hated him."

"Hate is a very strong word. And besides, you're his landlord, just tell him he doesn't have a choice. So that's four…we need at least one more…"

Excuses abandoned me in my time of need and my mind was left blank. "Why do we need more?"

"Does Edward have any friends?" She asked like she truly believed he didn't.

I thought of the blonde guy from the day before. "I don't know, probably."

"Tell him to bring someone…and snacks!"

"Is this a séance or a party?" _Did I actually just ask that?_

"Sort of both, this is going to be so much fun!"

She talked for a few more minutes until it had descended so far into odd that I just had to go with it. I listened and let her get carried away, riding on the coattails of her enthusiasm, lost in a mixture of her world and my own.

_It was hot. Fry an egg on the sidewalk hot. And humid. Melting in your own clothes and people in the hospital for dehydration humid. _

_And my mother's air conditioner was broken. _

_It was the last week in August before I was due back in Washington for school and I made a mental note to myself to start making my visits to my mother in January. We woke up early and took icy showers before leaving to spend our last days together in cool, indoor places elsewhere. That particular day we went to a movie theatre; my mom bought us tickets and then we spent the day bouncing from theatre to theatre, sneaking into other movies. That part wasn't my idea._

"_Bella, kids used to go to the theatre and spend all day there all the time."_

"_When?"_

"_I don't know…the fifties?" She pulled me into a screening of Strangers on a Train._

_I didn't argue anymore, the place we were at was showing old movies all weekend and she knew my weakness for them._

_We managed to avoid being kicked out and by the late afternoon we were headed to the beach, buttery popcorn and soda in hand. I pulled off my shoes once we hit the sand; she picked a spot a few yards from the water and sat down, stretching her legs in front of her. "Which one was your favorite?" _

_She always asked me things like that now._

_I thought about it. "Charade." I was going through an Audrey Hepburn phase._

"_I liked The Wolf Man. I can do that you know, like the gypsy from the movie" she spoke around a mouthful of popcorn, "tell fortunes I mean."_

_I laughed. "What?"_

"_Seriously, give me your hand." She wiped butter onto her shorts, but didn't care. She took my hand and held it carefully, palm up. "We have the exact same hands," she smiled. "Ok, this is life, fate, and heart," she traced the lines in my hand. "There's another one, but I forgot what it is…this means you're very cautious…," she traced the curve of one of the lines and I snorted. "Bella, be serious."_

"_You didn't have to read my palm to know that."_

_She ignored me and kept going. "Your life is strongly controlled by fate, you're not easily manipulated, and your love line says - ," _

_Before she could continue, a volleyball came flying into the back of my head. The owner jogged over and grabbed it, her cheeks flushed cherry red; they matched mine. _

_My mom pressed her lips together, stifling a giggle. _

"_Want to start walking?" _

_She stood up, dusting sand off the bottom of her shorts._

_I moved to follow, getting our trash together. And because my curiosity was getting the better of me, I asked, "so…what did it say?"_

"_Hmm?" She kept her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses._

_I was embarrassed for inquiring. "My…you know, my love line…what did it say?"_

_She slipped an arm over my shoulders as we walked up the beach. Her skin was warm; she smelled like violets._

"_Mom?" I asked again._

"_Yes dear?" _

"_My love line?"_

"_Never you mind." _

_I glanced up to see her smiling._


	9. Eighteen Months Ago

Author's Note: Surprise! More at the bottom.

* * *

18 Months Ago…

Things weren't looking too good for Edward Masen.

Renee flipped to another page in her travel magazine, looking at a picture of someone hang gliding off the side of a Hawaiian volcano. _Next summer_, she mused, sitting on the front porch. With growing impatience as her gaze moved back and forth between the photographs and the driveway, she tossed the magazine onto the table and checked her watch again. He was officially fifteen minutes late to see the house. She picked up his rental application and debated crossing him off the list of possible tenants. That would put the "maybe" list at two and the "no" list at fourteen.

But she couldn't help it; she had yet to see anyone that would be able to take care of her mother's house to her standard. As it was, she was refusing to let anyone actually live in it. The idea of some new person coming in, weeding through Marie's antique furniture, throwing things out, made Renee shiver. That's why the advertisement was for the guest house plus caretaking duties.

She sighed; she was giving Mr. Masen five more minutes.

Renee read over the thin file. Twenty four years old, unmarried, two published works to his name, he was a writer of historical biographies. That was what had impressed her in the beginning. Her mind wandered; she'd always wanted to write a book. Maybe an autobiography, a story for the every-woman. She looked up when she heard the car coming up the driveway. _Twenty four and he drives a Volvo? _Once it came further up the drive she noticed the car was actually kind of a piece of crap. If she had to guess, she'd place it somewhere in the mid-eighties; she noticed bright red tape covering a broken section of taillight.

She stood to greet him and he won her over without having to say anything. It wasn't his attractiveness, though that much was obvious even with his shabby attire; it was the eagerness in his eyes. He looked energized, that same mix of nerves and excitement Renee had felt when she moved to Florida. The beginning of something brand new. He reached out a hand to shake hers and then apologized, wiping it on the leg of his pants.

"Sorry, ink smudge…," he laughed, not totally comfortable.

"You're an author, right?" She was quickly sizing him up, ticking things off like she was going through a list. Indie, or possibly just poor. Handsome. Obviously intelligent. Probably a boy trying to make it all by himself.

"A biographer, yes. And I'm sorry for being late, by the way. The car," he waved his hand toward it, but trailed off.

"It's fine." She glanced at the big house, back at him, deliberating. Could she trust him? The big Victorian wasn't merely something of historical value; it was a part of her. It was goodness and light and memory. She had her first kiss on that porch, Charlie had proposed in the gazebo out back, she made her first attempt at cake baking in that kitchen. She had lived there, laughed there, cried, and yelled. She had gone into labor with Bella while chatting with Marie in the den.

This wasn't just a house.

He stuck his hands in his pockets, waiting for Renee to come out of her reverie.

She cleared her throat, decided. "Would you like to see the property?"

* * *

Author's Note: I'll be putting these in sporadically from here on out to give a little window into Edward and Renee's relationship. Let me know what you think :) . Also, there's a picture of Edward's car on my homepage.


	10. Nine: The Seance

Author's Note: Thank you's all around my lovelies, sorry this took a little longer than normal. My flashback whatever you want to call it should be up later tonight.

Nice reviews are better than chocolate, unless maybe you're licking that chocolate off someone.

* * *

Nine: The Séance

It was Séance Saturday.

Alice put Rose and I in charge of the alcohol.

The job was taken very seriously.

We were at Circle Square Market, reputed to be the best place to go to prepare for total inebriation. I pushed the cart, Rose made the selections. "Shiraz or merlot?" She asked, holding two bottles.

"What's the difference?"

"Not sure." She stuck both in our cart. The market was small and locally owned, like most things downtown, which was half the reason I loved it so much. With few exceptions there wasn't a chain establishment in sight.

We walked by a stand of pumpkins and I grabbed one small enough to fit in my palm. Rose grabbed a bottle of gin and looked at me, eyebrows raised. "You think?" She raised the bottle.

"Only if we get vermouth too."

She put it in the cart and then froze, halfway leaned over. Her eyebrows furrowed and then she straightened, looking behind her.

It took me a minute to catch up.

Emmett.

He was staring at her like she was prancing around in her under things rather than what may have actually been pajamas. Rose stuck a loose strand of hair back into her ponytail, looking suddenly like a shy teenager. Which, as I recall, she had never been.

"Rosalie," he said, sounding like he'd discovered the Holy Grail. I noticed he was dressed the same way we were, including honest to goodness fuzzy slippers. They were blue. And he was holding a box of wine, which instead of looking silly, made him seem endearing to me.

"Emmett…hi," she breathed, speechless for the first time since I'd known her.

He spoke to me, but didn't look at me. "Bella, right? You own the haunted house?"

My mouth opened. Was this truly a topic in people's conversations now? Rose looked at me, her eyes pleading. _Invite him. _They seemed to say. "Um, yeah that's me…," I trailed off; I wasn't very good at this.

"That's awesome. It's a great house, besides…," he shrugged.

Besides the other possible tenants.

Rose got her voice back, "we're having a séance tonight," she said happily, nudging me with her elbow. _Invite him_.

I nudged her back. _Invite him yourself_.

I assumed naturally after hearing about our planned foray into the supernatural he would kindly make up some excuse and retreat to another aisle, but instead he looked intrigued. I watched him watch Rose, watched Rose watch him. I sighed, "yeah, I know it's…," I swallowed. "I know you're in the house all day, but you're welcome to join us if you'd like."

"You can bring your box." Rose threw in, motioning toward his wine.

He glanced at me for the first time. "Really? Yeah, I'd love to." He looked almost shy.

"It's at eight tonight." I said, noticing he looked like he was ready to follow Rose out of the store.

"I'll need to…," he looked like he was working something out. "Yeah, I'll be there."

We parted ways and Rose kept quiet, idly tossing in more alcohol and things to mix it with. I contemplated opening my own dive bar.

At the car, I finally asked. "What was that?"

"Hmm?" She looked absolutely dreamy.

"I thought you weren't going to date him?"

"Oh that…we can still be friends, can't we?"

We stuck bags in the backseat of my little car. I worried for Rose; I didn't want to see her getting hurt. But I couldn't bring myself to talk her out of it; she looked absolutely over the moon happy.

About half a second after we got the bags from the car into the house, Rose was out the door. She had to go back to her place to find what she deemed a more appropriate outfit.

I walked out onto the back porch for some air and to wait for either Alice or Rose, or (considering the enthusiasm) possibly Emmett. It was about to storm pretty heavily by the look of it, but the idea of being inside a house all by myself that was about to have an exorcism was a little too much for me to handle.

I looked toward the steps and noticed a sheet of paper stuck on the side of the thin newel post and had a sinking suspicion about who may have put it there. Despite that, I grabbed it off the fresh nail and sat on the top porch step.

_I went to the University of Chicago._

_My favorite color is blue, the same shade as your pajama top this morning._

I made a very obvious turn to see if he was in amongst the trees, watching for my reaction, but I appeared to be alone in the early dusk. I stared out, the clouds thickening and the temperature dropping. This was going to be a good one.

And then, instead of the falling of rain I felt the rising of annoyance. Edward was playing with me, I decided. He enjoyed seeing me flustered and must be laughing at his easy success. Had I truly considered the possibility of starting something with him? I blamed my poor judgment on his dizzying persuasive talents.

"Bella!"

I jumped, horror movie style. "Jesus Alice!"

She smiled. "No, just regular Alice."

I got up, stuffing Edward's note into my back pocket.

She must have seen something on my face that inspired more talking because she rambled. "Sorry, I was – I came in and called for you." She flicked her thumb in the direction of the door. "Were you in the zone or what?"

I ran a hand through my hair, "yeah I guess."

"Ok well, snap out of it and come help me set the mood." She grabbed my hand to drag me inside.

"Are we seducing people here tonight?"

Before she could come up with something from her vast storage of witticisms, there was a knock. Though, not really so much a polite rap as it was the knocking equivalent of "_I'll huff and puff and blow your house down."_

Emmett was here early.

"Who's that? I'm not set up yet!" She jogged through the house trying to whip up an internal tantrum until she saw who it was; she had the door open before I was halfway down the hall. "Oh," she smiled. "Emmett." I wasn't sure how she remembered that.

He smiled back, but clearly did not remember her.

"Hi," I greeted once I hit the foyer. Alice opened the door wider for him to come in and I noticed that he had, in fact, brought his box of wine. He'd also changed clothes; he wore a thick Irish sweater that made him look even bigger. I was impressed. And his hair was a little wet from the drizzle that was strengthening into steady rain outside. Large, sexy, and damp, I laughed to myself; Rosalie was going to lose her mind. I knew from her dating past that this cleaned up mountain man look of his was a fantasy comes to life situation. I just hoped she'd be able to reel it in a little.

I took his wine to set it with the rest of our ample selection while Alice got herself acquainted and by the time I was back from the kitchen, she had put him to work.

"Alice," I said reproachfully, watching Emmett drag a large round mahogany table from one end of the library to the center.

"He offered to help," she said, the picture of innocence.

He straightened once he was finished and shrugged, "I don't mind; I'm used to this kind of stuff."

I assumed he meant his job, but then watched him pull his wallet out of his back pocket. He opened it up to a set of pictures and Alice shot me a look - _does he have a kid?!_ We both froze as he flipped to a photograph and held it out to us. I stepped forward first and took it, hoping for Rose's sake the picture was anything but what it was.

The little girl looked just like him. Dark curls, bright blue eyes; I'd put her age somewhere around five. "She's beautiful," I handed the wallet to Alice awkwardly; our mutual list of questions forming though neither of us would actually ask them.

Married? A complete scoundrel? Was there a girlfriend somewhere watching their daughter as he went out to flirt with a statuesque blonde that happened to be my best friend? Or was he just a single dad, trying to make it work? Would Rose change her mind about him if she knew about this?

Alice mumbled some platitude about the little girl and then with the subtlety of a drive by shooting, checked his left hand for a ring, or the tan line indication of one.

"Knock, knock!" Esme announced, letting herself into the house. I could hear high heeled footsteps making their way down the wide hallway to the library.

I looked at Alice in the silent conversation we had perfected over the years. _What is Esme doing here?_

She shrugged and tilted her head. _I couldn't not invite her._

I nodded, sighing. _That's true, I guess_. We both remembered Esme's fascination with the strange; she even had her own set of tarot cards which had been, according to her, passed down from her great grandmother who read cards to the neighbor women in her small town.

"Hi, Esme," I saw the bags and umbrella she and Carlisle were holding precariously in the large archway, "let me help you with that." I looked over my shoulder at Alice pointedly.

She nodded, looking at Emmett from the corner of her eye. _I'm on it_.

"Hi, oh Bella, I'm so excited!" She was practically bouncing, more like Alice than Rose this evening. "Doesn't the storm make it even spookier?" She waved off Carlisle who tried to take a bag from her, though he was already clearly overloaded. I took his umbrella and stuck it in a holder before grabbing whatever I could carry.

"Oh yes, very spooky, here let's put these things down in the kitchen." I led them toward the back of the house, giving Alice plenty of room to work her magic.

We made small talk, which I was not proficient in, for much longer than was most likely warranted. Esme chattered on about Victorian homes and their propensity for spirits while we separated what turned out to be food, even more alcohol, and glasses – highball, martini, you name it. Carlisle located my personal glassware as well and poured generously.

When I excused myself, bringing the non-food items to Alice, she shook her head – _not yet. _I left the bag near the archway and went upstairs to change into something that didn't look quite so slept in, opting for jeans and a cashmere top that just happened to be the blue Edward had mentioned in his note. The note that I had surreptitiously transferred from my sweat pants to the back pocket of my jeans.

Downstairs, the library had been transformed into…gypsy fortune teller chic. The cloth covered table dominated the large space, which was low lit with the dark curtains drawn. I could hear the sound of the rain outside and Esme's quiet voice as she read Emmett's cards. Carlisle was by her side so I took the opportunity to sequester Alice in the hall.

"So…is it awful?...Does Rose even like kids?"

Her expression warmed, "she's not his daughter; she's his half _sister_."

"What?"

"He never even knew about her until -,"

We both turned toward the knocking sound at the front door. That was formal, I thought, wouldn't Rosalie just let herself in?

"Oh," Alice said, a look of guilt crossing her face. "I forgot to tell you…,"

"Forgot to tell me what?"

"Well, I knew you wouldn't do it so…I invited Edward."

I clenched my teeth, holding back all the disparaging remarks that were flooding my brain at the moment. He knocked again.

"Do you hate me? In retrospect, it probably wasn't the best idea…,"

I looked at her flatly – _oh really?_ "I'll get the door; you're my official alcohol gopher tonight. A martini please, lots of olives." She darted toward the library where the alcohol was now set up as I made my way to the door.

I opened it and my eyes widened. "Oh." He looked…instantaneous fantasy good. And the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up his forearms, which brought back the sensation of how those arms felt wrapped around me. Before I could get too carried away, I noticed he brought a friend, who looked quite nice himself. It was the tall, messy blonde I'd seen before, still tall and messy, but with nicer clothes on. Edward shook out his umbrella and smirked at me, and just like that, I remembered who I was fantasizing about. "Come in," I opened the door wider as the blonde pulled out his vibrating phone to take a call. He smiled at me in apology as they stepped into the entryway.

"So," I said quietly, "do you deface everyone's private property or am I just special?" I was referring to the nail that had been so unceremoniously stuck in the newel post, which was probably as old and frail as the house.

He was close enough that I could smell the fresh soap; I wanted to rest my face against his chest and inhale despite my rational side's protestations. "I did no such thing," he grinned and then spoke in a low voice. "If I were going to deface your _private_ property, you'd know it. Nice shirt, by the way." He stepped back and I heard Alice behind me, clearing her throat.

"Um, drink?" She reached out a martini glass to me, which was half finished by the time I pulled it away from my lips. She handed me a second before I had to ask.

In the library, Carlisle had commenced bartending duties and was expertly mixing a drink atop the desk. He handed it to Alice and then looked at Edward and the blonde, who had just hung up his phone. Edward introduced him to the room as Jasper before directing him toward the liquor.

Carlisle shook their hands; he looked at Edward. "Scotch, neat. And for you," he looked at Jasper, "pinot noir."

The two exchanged glances, surprised at Carlisle's hidden talent, which the rest of us were used to. He handed out glasses and then poured himself a second.

It wasn't until the seven of us were seated around the big table that I realized Rose still wasn't here. I checked the time; it was after eight thirty and I knew from experience that one of Rose's biggest pet peeves involved punctuality. I looked at Alice.

"Let me try calling her," she said without my having to ask. An ominous crack of thunder shook the windows.

Esme and Carlisle were thankfully oblivious to our quiet worry, immersed in small talk with Jasper, who as it happened, was Edward's agent. They asked questions while Alice slipped out and I ate olives from my glass, pondering over all the things I should have said to Edward when I opened the door. I had meant to be calm and collected, a gracious host and coolly distant, not flustered and too rapidly aroused.

The sound of the front door flying open startled me out of my what-ifs; it slammed shut hard and was followed by an uneven clicking on the wooden floor. "Holy _shit_, could this night get any _worse_?" Rosalie yelled, making her way down the hall and into the library. "Oh, hey everybody." She nodded toward her parents.

Esme stood up, her chair clattering to the floor. "Oh my God, Rosalie," she rushed over, "what happened to you?"

Alice stood in the archway, "wow…what, did you walk here?"

She meant it in jest, but that was what it looked like. Rosalie's outfit, which I'm sure had made her look stunning at one time, was covered in…debris. And she was only wearing one shoe, the other dangled from her left hand, the heel broken.

The rest of the table stood up, examining the sopping wet mess that stood before us.

"Darling," Carlisle said, still holding his brandy glass, "did you take a spill?"

Edward snorted, but shut up when Rose glared at him.

"A tire blew out on my car -,"

"Sweetheart," Esme said quietly, "you have leaves in your cleavage."

This time Jasper snorted.

"Who the hell are you?" Her eyes shot to him.

"Rosalie," her mother admonished.

"As I was saying," she said in annoyance, "I was running late and a tire blew out on my car and the stupid jack wouldn't work in the mud, but I was close by so I decided to walk." She inhaled and started again. "But I don't have an umbrella," she gestured to her hair, "and I'm wearing heels…_was_ wearing heels," she held up the broken shoe. "Anyway," she seemed to notice finally that everyone, including Emmett, was staring. "I fell in the driveway." She tucked a piece of dirt caked hair behind her ear and tried to straighten out her outfit, which was beyond repair.

"Why didn't you call one of us?" Esme asked the obvious.

Rose rolled her eyes and pulled her phone from her pocket. "It fell in the mud when I was trying to change the tire," she plopped it into her mother's hand. "Paperweight."

The room was silent except for the rumbling thunder outside.

"Well…fuck Rose; you sure know how to make an entrance." Alice laughed, not even trying to stop it.

And then Jasper and Edward started laughing and before I looked toward the floor to contain myself, I noticed Carlisle staring a bit too intently into his glass.

Only Emmett was quiet; he took a few cautious steps forward. "You know how to change a tire?"

Rose smiled.

He put his hand on the small of her back, turning her away from the rest of us. "Your lip is bleeding."

She touched it self-consciously.

"Let's get you cleaned up." He led her out of the room.

They came back after a while; Rose was in some of my clothes and her hair was freshly rinsed out and pulled up in an elastic band. I handed her a glass of wine which she sipped at slowly.

Sometime during all of that, a Ouija board was set up in the center of the table; I frowned toward Alice. "Seriously?"

She gave a large nod. "They're underrated. Remember The Exorcist? Captain Howdy?"

Jasper's eyes brightened and he turned away from Edward mid-sentence, focusing instead on the girl to his left. "You've seen The Exorcist?"

I heard a mumbled "oh _Christ_" from Edward.

"Of course, it's only the best horror film ever made." Alice turned in her chair, suddenly completely in Jasper's orbit.

"What? _No_," he scoffed. "The Shining, hands down."

She made a noise, "ok, that one's pretty good…Texas Chainsaw Massacre?"

"Leatherface," Jasper nodded. "Great villain."

Edward and I looked at each other with matching expressions. It was a strange sort of moment where all his posturing was set aside and we shared something authentic. I knew it was a silly and trivial thing to come to mind, but it was there, even if for only a split second. He gave me a lopsided smile before turning back toward the scary movie twins.

Outside, lightning flickered behind the curtains.

"Alright everyone," Esme brought the table to order. "Everyone put their fingertips on the…the…," I wondered at that point how much we had all had to drink. "On the thingy."

Carlisle laughed under his breath, "the _thingy_?"

"_Dad_," Rose made a face of disgust while Emmett laughed into his wine glass.

"We have to concentrate," Alice said sternly.

Dutifully, we placed our hands on the…whatever it was called; there was barely room for all of us. I took one hand off to take a drink.

"Bella."

"Sorry," I put my hand back.

Alice inhaled dramatically. "Everyone close your eyes and focus."

We did as we were told, though I could have sworn I heard the light clink of ice in a highball.

"Ok," Alice started. "We wish to speak with the spirit inhabiting this house." She was quiet for a moment; there was the sound of a light snicker on my left.

I kicked Edward under the table and he grunted.

"Wait," Emmett asked. "How are we suppose to see what they say if our eyes are closed?"

The table went quiet.

"…Open your eyes everybody."

I could feel Emmett's shoulders shaking with silent laughter next to me.

"Shall we try this again?" Esme asked, taking a long sip from Carlisle's glass.

We finished with our drinks and put our hands back. "Alright," Alice said loudly. "Again, we wish to communicate with the spirit in this house." She waited, staring at the board. Another bolt of lightning lit up outside; I counted, something my mother taught me to do as a child. One…two…three. The house shook with the reverberating thunder. "Is there anyone with us tonight?"

Rose giggled and Alice shot her a look.

I could already tell this was going to be a spiritually successful night.

In all, we had three false starts before giving up on the Ouija board for good. The second was Rose; she got halfway through the word "Leatherface" before Alice figured it out. The third was Carlisle, but he started laughing before he could spell anything.

The first time no one would own up to. In answer to the question, "is there anyone with us tonight?" The indicator was pushed directly toward "Yes." But after that, the phony messages commenced so no one could be quite sure about that first answer.

Not that anyone really thought about it, by the end of the night it was Noah's Ark everywhere I looked and my ghost fell by the wayside. Alice and Jasper stayed at the table discussing the brilliance of Alfred Hitchcock, huddled in their own private universe. Carlisle and Esme retired for the evening after a few more than suggestive glances. And Rose sat on the desk at the end of the room, regaling a captivated Emmett with her vast knowledge of the '69 Corvette. This left just Edward and myself and this was the reason I was standing alone at the window.

I pulled back the curtains to watch the rain. My mother did this, though she was usually outside sitting on her back porch during a storm, curled up in a blanket. I think that was her favorite thing.

I huffed on the glass and drew a smiley face, the extent of my artistic ability. I did the same right next to it only this time I drew an unhappy face. Edward was reflected in the glass behind me; I could see him watching, but was tired of the smirk and the remarks and mixed signals.

If Edward wanted me, he was going to have to come right out and get me.

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Author's Note: Reviewers get to prance around in their under things with Emmett.


	11. Sixteen Months Ago

Author's Note: Hi peoples, here's another flashback. Just a reminder, these are just glimpses into Renee and Edward's past, so they're short on purpose. And muchos thanks to all for reading :)

Nice reviews are better than chocolate, unless maybe you're licking that chocolate off someone.

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16 Months Ago…

Renee was back at her childhood home, but this time Phil was with her. They were trying to make a new tradition, getting away from Florida every few months to spend some uninterrupted time together. They were finally at a point where things were settling; they had their routines, a little extra money, and time. So Renee brought him to Washington, nervous as if she were introducing him to family. But there wasn't any need, he loved the house.

Renee was a bit of an early riser, so at seven the next morning she went outside, coffee in hand. She pulled her robe closed tightly, having gotten much too comfortable with the hot coastal weather, and made her way out to the dock. There she found Edward, a mess of papers laid out meticulously in front of him, like he knew in exactly which order they belonged.

"Morning," she called, shuffling over in neon green slippers. "Research?" She sat down next to him and sipped at her coffee.

"Yeah," he sighed.

"Trouble?"

He ran his fingers through his copper hair and set a handful of notes down, putting a glass weight on them a little more forcefully than necessary. "No…,"

Renee watched him, looking for that eagerness she'd seen when they met, but it wasn't there. He pulled at his hair again, frowning at the dock. "Ah," she said, "girl trouble."

He looked at her from the corner of his eye like he was sizing her up. On a sigh he said, "yeah well, that's part of it."

She set her coffee down. "I'm a good listener," she tried to put on a disarming expression.

He was still staring downward as he started talking. "My book isn't going…anywhere…, I don't know, I might shelve it for now."

"The one on Thelonious Monk?"

"No, that's finished. This one isn't a biography."

"What is -,"

Before she could finish her question, the door to the guest house slammed. Renee turned toward the sound and saw a huffy blonde woman stalking down the porch steps. Her arms were loaded down with clothes and other things Renee couldn't make out; it looked like she didn't want to make a second trip inside. "Girlfriend?"

"Ex."

"As of?"

"This morning."

"How long?"

"Five years."

Renee took a sip of her hot coffee, but didn't ask anything more. She knew he wanted to talk and that if she waited long enough, eventually he'd fill the quiet.

"She cheated for two of the five, said that it was my fault, I stopped having time for her…,"he shifted, leaning back on his hands.

They both stared out toward the water, listening to the sound of the car driving away. Renee thought about her own divorce, how Charlie stopped having time for her and how the fact that they really did love each other just wasn't quite enough to fill all the gaps.

"You know," she said finally, "I never really went for blondes."


	12. Ten: Charlie, This is Edward

Author's Note: Ta Da! Thank you so much for your patience with this story. It's been trying to get away from me, but I think I've finally got it where I want it. I heart you guys, even if there are only two of you left.

Nice reviews are better than chocolate, unless maybe you're licking that chocolate off someone.

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Ten: Charlie, This is Edward

My mother was a teacher for a while and she liked to try out her classroom ideas on me when I was younger and we were still living together under one roof. Once, she had Charlie make her a mailbox shaped like a house. But his skills were rudimentary and it ended up being a plain box with an unevenly peaked roof; though he did add hinges so the roof opened and this was enough to appease Renee. She let me paint it any color I wanted so I made the roof grey and the sides white; when she asked if I was sure I didn't want any brighter colors, I told her no because I wanted it to look like our house.

"_Where should we put it?" She held it from the bottom, wary of the wet paint._

"_On the kitchen table," I directed, "in the middle." I watched as she set it down on top of an old placemat; we sat down and I waited for her to finally tell me what it was for._

"_Ok now Bella, this is a mailbox -,"_

"_I _know_ mom."_

_She gave me The Look and kept going. "But it's only for people that live in this house."_

_I leaned forward, interested now._

"_So, if there's ever something you want us to know, but you don't want to say it out loud, you can write us a note and put it in here."_

"_I can write anything I want?"_

"_Anything."_

"_I won't get in trouble?"_

"_You won't get in trouble. You can tell us whatever you're thinking about."_

I knew I was dreaming, but it was nice. And it was warm, warmer than I ever remembered it being in Forks. Too warm…Hot even… But I was back in that old house and my mother was there, smiling at me. I remember the first thing I ever wrote in it – _Jacob Black said he has a crush on me. _He tried to ask me out on a date when we were twelve because some of the other boys on the reservation said boys and girls couldn't just be friends.

My mom thought it was romantic; my father thought I was too young. Renee purposely began inviting Jacob along when she'd take me out, hoping that I'd met my soul mate at an early age. I tried, for her I suppose, as we got older. But the first time he kissed me, the thing that crossed my mind was something about how our lips were really chapped. Was that what real love was supposed to feel like? So eventually it dissolved into an easy friendship and…

Why was it so hot in here?

I was in Forks, for heaven's sake! Alright, well not really, but I was still in Washington. I breathed in, awareness creeping up like high tide around my ankles and then further. I felt heavy, pressed down hard by something. I kept my eyes closed; I couldn't bear to leave my old childhood home just yet.

Shuffling.

I ceased breathing.

Why now?

There it was again. Directly above my head. A shuffling or scurrying or some similar dreadful sound; I kept my eyes shut tightly, like when you're a child and you hide under the covers. As a matter of fact…I yanked at the bedspread, trying to pull it higher, but it wouldn't budge.

The noise again. It was coming from the attic.

I grabbed the blanket between my fingers, then stilled, listening.

"What the fuck is that?"

I screamed. Loud.

And jumped out of bed.

And then the other voice screamed. Shrill.

"Alice?!" I held my pillow up in front of me like a weapon which I was still a little tempted to use.

She was standing on the bed, staring at me with those big eyes. "Of course it's me!"

We both turned at a new sound, something pounding up the stairs. I scrambled backward onto the bed where Alice and I clawed at each other for protection.

"Bella?" A voice called out, anxious.

"Dad?"

"Oh for crying out loud…," Alice mumbled, loosening her hold on my pajamas; she climbed under the covers so my father didn't have to witness her barely covered bottom. He shoved the door open hard enough that it slammed into the wall behind it.

"Dad?" I said again.

"What's wrong, Bells? I heard screaming," his trained eyes took in his surroundings, assessing possible threat levels.

I rubbed my forehead, "yeah…that was -,"

"Sorry Charlie!" Alice piped up, "Bella and I scared each other." She said it as if it were the most normal thing in the world. I noticed she was wearing my "_read the book; it's better" _t-shirt.

"What?" A crease formed between his eyebrows; one might think he'd be used to my lifelong friend, but one would be incorrect.

Alice just nodded.

"Dad, why do you have my umbrella?"

He looked at it once, shrugged. "I didn't bring my gun."

Alice snorted. "Is it always this exciting here?"

"Only when you're around."

Charlie stared at us, "so…why did you two scream again?"

"I uh…," I started.

"She didn't know I was here. There was no way I was going to sleep in the guest room." Alice proceeded to explain while the fog dissipated in my mind. The party had cleared out downstairs, all except Alice and Jasper; Edward had wished me a quiet goodnight while Alice shot daggers at him with her eyes. I still couldn't understand why she'd invited him if she didn't like him. I'd excused myself and asked Alice to lock up when they left.

"You left the front door unlocked?" I asked her now, wondering how Charlie had gotten inside and then also wondering if I was going to see a broken piece of wood where the door used to be when I got downstairs.

"No…,"

Charlie held up a key, "above the door, it's been there since…," he paused, suddenly concentrating very hard on the key in his hand. "I wanted to check on the house," to demonstrate, he knocked on the door frame. "I'll be downstairs while you two get…,"

"Decent?" Alice asked. I had a feeling she enjoyed saying things that would make him uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat and closed the door behind him.

"Ok…why did you sleep here?" I asked, though at this point, it was becoming common practice.

She pulled her jeans on, hopping up and down to get them all the way up. "Well…," she was breathing hard, "I swear these damn things fit last night…I drank too much." She yanked them into position and smiled at her handiwork. "There."

"Do you hear that?"

Alice raised her eyes automatically to the ceiling. "Is Captain Howdy scratching in the attic again?"

"What? No, I hear…Oh…crap." I ran to my window and looked down. Charlie had Edward facedown on the porch, his hands restrained tightly behind him. "Oh just kill me and get it over with."

Beside me, Alice burst out laughing.

"It's not funny, what is with my father today?" I pushed open my window. "Dad? What are you doing?"

He looked up from where he was kneeling. "It's ok Bells, he was trespassing."

Alice wiped a tear from her eye. "This is the best morning ever. You should let Charlie arrest him."

I ignored her. "Dad, he lives in the guesthouse!"

"What?"

"He lives here!"

Charlie kept his grip on Edward. "_With_ you?"

"Yes! Well…not _with_ me…," I felt ludicrous. "I'm coming down, would you let him go, please?"

I ran down the steps with a giggling Alice who was musing about all the different ways this situation could have played out. I thought about how I could kiss any realization of Edward centric fantasies goodbye.

When we got outside, the two men were staring warily at each other. "Um," I began masterfully. "This is Edward; he's the caretaker and lives in the guesthouse. Edward, this is my dad, Charlie."

"He's a cop," Alice added with a smile.

"Uh yeah, pleasure," Edward reached out a hand as a reluctant peace offering.

Charlie looked admittedly embarrassed. "Sorry about that." He glanced at me, "guess I'm oh for two so far." He looked back to Edward with lingering suspicion. "What were you doing on Bella's back porch anyway?"

"I…," he started. It was the first time I'd ever seen him truly nervous. "I was leaving something for Bella."

I felt myself flush.

"Oh? Why don't you have anything in your hands then?"

I wondered if anyone would notice if I escaped to my bedroom. Or South America.

With obvious hesitation, Edward pulled out a slip of paper, handing it to me before my father could snatch it from him. I stuffed it in my pocket. He ran a hand through his hair, "well, I need to get going. Hey," he directed at me. "I'll be gone most of the day, so go ahead and use your key."

I nodded, "alright." I had this urge to walk him to his car and apologize profusely, plus I badly wanted to be alone with him.

No, I reminded myself. I was waiting, if he _liked_ me, liked me, he was going to have to say so.

I had this feeling suddenly like I was thirteen years old.

Alice took her leave shortly after Edward, saying that she'd had enough excitement.

I put on shoes and walked with Charlie around the property, unsure what else to do. "It's exactly how I remember it," he mentioned after a time.

We stepped onto the gazebo and looked out at the water. It was easier for us to talk when we weren't looking right at each other. The rain had cleared the air the night before, which was now a perfect, crisp blue. "You know, I proposed to your mother right here."

I looked at him in surprise; he was rarely so forthcoming, especially about a memory that must be more painful for him to tell than for me to hear. I stayed quiet, waiting to see if he'd continue.

"We were younger than you are now." He paused, staring at a bird across the pond. It ruffled its feathers before settling down on a tree branch. "She loved to swim out here. I was sitting right there," he gestured toward the dock, "when I decided I was going to marry her."

I watched him, wondering what else was locked inside his mind and what else he was going to tell me. My father wasn't one for any form of conversation, never had been. And that was always just the way it was. So what was this? We were both quiet as I thought it over. I felt momentarily thickheaded when the obviousness of it hit me. Charlie was lonely.

What friends did he have? I tried to remember. There was Jacob's father, but I wasn't sure how often they saw one another these days. That was the end of the list if you didn't count coworkers. The only other person I could think of had passed away some time ago.

And now Renee was gone too. I knew he had never quite gotten over her, for such a long time she was his life. As standoffish as Charlie seemed, he had never been entirely comfortable by himself. I felt a deep thread of guilt that he and I had all but lost contact, and that my own grief had made me unaware of his. It was a strange new place we were both at.

Charlie, and people in general I thought, needed to feel needed. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't just jump right back into his life; he'd relate it too much to charity. I could just picture him telling me not to burden myself with "entertaining" him. I worried my lip between my teeth, thinking about his efforts at heroism earlier. "Um…dad?"

"Hmm?" He was picking at his nails.

"This morning right before you got here, Alice and I heard scratching noises in the attic…," my ghost saying hello…or something. "And I was wondering if maybe you'd take a look? I'd go myself, but…everyone keeps telling me the house is haunted," I felt ridiculous for almost admitting that I was afraid to even glance at the attic door. I looked at him hopefully.

He chuckled at me, shaking his head. "I'll go check it out."

Charlie got to the attic stairs without me having to tell him which way to go; it made me wonder just how much time he had spent in this house over the years. He got to the door and pulled it open, letting out a gust of dusty, old smelling air. He looked at me seriously. "Do you think I should go get the umbrella?"

I laughed, but sincerely considered it, and waited at the bottom of the steps, feeling a little girl's sense of safety that my dad was around. It was quiet except for the creaks of Charlie's footsteps on the old floors; he seemed to be moving from one end of the area to the other and back again. After a while, he called down, "I found your ghost."

What? "What?" I braved a single step, leaning forward to better hear him.

He appeared in the doorway. "You're not as alone as you thought you were," he looked like he was teasing me, but all it did was make me nervous.

"What is it?" I cringed at the thought. But at the very least, I was hopeful that it wasn't human, living or otherwise. He would never be this nonchalant if it was.

He paused, as if debating whether or not to tell me. Finally, he said, "mice."

"I have mice?" I backed up, my arms instinctually crossing.

"It doesn't really surprise me. I'll put some traps up here; I don't think they've gotten into the walls yet."

"Yet?" I tried not to think of mice crawling all over the place while I tried to sleep.

He closed the door behind him and then came back down. "You might want to clear the stuff out of the attic before they get to it."

"You mean like…go up there?"

He laughed at me.

He left to buy some traps after a sort of compromise by me. I promised that if he'd bring down the boxes, I'd cook him his favorite dinner. I'd cook him dinner for the rest of time if it would keep me away from my mice infested attic.

By the time dinner rolled around, Charlie had not only brought down everything, he also checked inside each box for furry creatures. So I made chocolate chip cookies as well. We ate in companionable quiet, Charlie only speaking up to tell me about a fishing weekend he was planning with Jacob and his dad. I not so tactfully invited him over for dinner the following Sunday, hoping we could make a tradition of it. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed him and how inside my own head I'd been the last few weeks.

When we said goodbye, Charlie hugged me. It was one of those one arm things, but there was a little extra behind it from the both of us.

I wandered back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up, and it wasn't until I was drying the dishes that I remembered Edward's note. I felt the butterflies stir and I tried to quiet them down. I pulled the crinkled paper out of my pocket and unfolded it.

_The only thing I know how to cook is spaghetti._

_For a while when I was eighteen, I wore pink underwear because I left a red shirt in with my whites._

I found myself smiling at Edward's boyishness; it was…cute, which is a word I didn't usually associate with him. Gorgeous, smoldering, unnerving, and sarcastic, yes. Cute, not so much.

I read it again.

And before I let myself read it a third time, I folded it back up and stuck it in my pocket.

The house was a mess, I had mice and no shower, but I felt pretty good.

Before I could make it upstairs, someone knocked on my door and for once, I didn't have that moment of paralyzing fear at the thought of a chainsaw revving on the other side. And when I saw that it was Edward, I smiled, having forgotten that he might be, let's say, perturbed about that morning. So I opened the door with my defenses down, unprepared for whatever he was about to say.

Edward looked, aside from the obvious, like he knew what he was doing.

I bit my lip, my nervous habit, and waited for the fallout.

He kept his hands in his pockets, but he didn't have to touch me for me to feel it. "Bella," was all he could get out before I started rambling.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I had no idea Charlie was coming over and I didn't know…I would have told him you lived here if I'd thought you'd…and…I'm just…really sorry." I looked down, sufficiently mortified.

"It's alright."

I raised my eyes and noticed he'd stepped inside and was now standing well within the limits of my personal space. I had to look up to see his eyes. "It is?"

His hands were no longer in his pockets and the thought of them on me was equal parts nerve-wracking and fantastic. "But…," he began.

I parted my lips, imagining that if he got any closer I would start to hyperventilate. I thought that perhaps he could hear my heart beating.

"You so owe me one," he smirked at me.

I lost my sense of direction. "I do?" My voice came out too high.

"Yes." And with that, he stepped back, breaking the tense little aura we'd created. "Goodnight."

I made a small sound which may have resembled an appropriate reply, but I couldn't say for sure.

He was right, I did owe him. But that begged the question, what was he going to ask of me? The more I thought about it, the more I knew I'd do anything he wanted.


	13. Eleven: Quid Pro Quo

Author's Note: Hi, and thanks to all. I've posted a couple of new pictures on my homepage that go with this chapter.

Nice reviews are better than chocolate, unless maybe you're licking that chocolate off someone.

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Eleven: Quid Pro Quo

I felt a little like I was waiting to be attacked.

I thought about Edward for not the first time that morning. "You so owe me one," he'd said.

He meant it, I knew that much. As far as what he was going to ask for, or more appropriately – demand, I hadn't the slightest idea. But my mind traveled down, and then down further, into the gutter as it is known to do. I had a growing suspicion that Edward not only knew that, but that he was the same and enjoyed it more than I did. Regardless, I couldn't stop myself from imagining the myriad nefarious things he might want me for, well aware that since I'd already given into him once, I was likely to do it again.

Or, for all I knew, he'd just tell me to start mowing my own lawn.

So, before I lose track, it was Thursday and unbeknownst to me, I had taken my last shower at Edward's place. The last few mornings had been a twisting navigation through awkwardness and anticipation, but when I came home to Esme telling me they had finished early, I didn't quite feel the relief I thought I would. I was overwhelming grateful, but also saddened at the thought of no longer sharing witty, sexually heightened banter with Edward first thing in the morning. But once she led me upstairs to my new bathroom and cleared the men out, all of that was forgotten.

It was, for lack of better descriptive abilities, like a picture in a magazine. And it was big, bigger than I remember. The tub, I wanted to cry when I saw the tub. It had those jet things and shelves in the walls around it so I didn't have to balance my shampoo bottle on the rim anymore. It had cabinets for my towels and other things, and new floors. And it was airy, everything felt brighter and clean. The window was newly shuttered; it also seemed larger, though I couldn't be sure if it actually was or if the illusion was just another facet of the Cullen's brilliance. It was all perfect, beyond that even, if there were such a thing.

"I'm never leaving this room again."

I could hear the smile in her voice, "you like it?"

"Esme, I love it." I looked around, realizing this couldn't possibly fall within my budget, but I knew they'd never tell me what it really cost. They just wanted me to have it anyway because that's the kind of people they were. I hugged her, whispering my thanks into her hair, slightly harder than I meant to. And then I ran downstairs and thanked Carlisle, and then the construction guys as well. And I offered to cook them dinner, as it is what I tend to do when I don't know how to be properly grateful, but they politely refused and laughed at my exuberance.

After the unveiling, we scheduled the next part of the project. There was still work to be done on the wiring of the house, a new shower for the guest bathroom, some of the old plumbing needed to be looked at downstairs, the floors were going to be resurfaced, and Esme was trying to convince me to let them paint, inside and out. Which I knew was part of her job, but wasn't part of Carlisle's, which is why I was reluctant to give her the green light.

Once they left I was feeling particularly productive, so I decided to go through Gran's boxes that were still scattered around to see if there was anything I could unpack and set out. I felt the need to remember, all of a sudden, that I wasn't the only one that ever lived here.

So that's what I was doing in the living room. It was quiet work, giving my overactive imagination ample time to think about you-know-who.

Four boxes in, I discovered that my grandmother had a strange habit of collecting glass bottles and vases. There was no real rhyme or reason to it, some were old soda bottles, some were tiny, barely enough to hold one small flower. And some, I had to admit, were quite beautiful. She seemed to favor blue, any shade of blue, and in one box, I found more than a dozen vases, votive holders, and the like in varying degrees of the color. I held a mason jar up to the light from the living room window and watched the way the sun passed through it; there was no way I could box these back up.

I went to grab a couple of rags from the kitchen to clean them and that's when I heard a knock on the back door. I felt a current over my skin in anticipation of who it was which pushed me to open the door faster.

"Edward," was all I could manage. I gripped the rag, switching it from one hand to the other.

"Can I come in?"

For a second, I froze. This was it, I thought; whatever he wanted, he was going to ask for it now. Right? "Uh, yeah." I opened the door wider and let him in.

He ambled toward the living room, which made me wonder if he'd seen me in the window and also if that's why he knocked on the back door instead of the front. "Oh," I heard him say when I got to the doorway. He was staring at my mess, holding one of the vases up near his face; it shaded his skin the palest blue. Watching him, I felt like I was about to get in trouble for snooping. "You know," he turned a little to face me, "I'm the one that packed all of this up."

Was he mad? I couldn't tell, but I felt bad for basically taking apart all his work. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For…opening everything." I motioned toward the piles of boxes and newspaper.

"No," he set the vase down on the window sill; I decided immediately that I was going to keep it there. "It's about time, this place is awfully bare. Need any help?" He tossed one of those lopsided, irresistible grins my way and before I knew it, we were sitting across from each other, open boxes between our feet. It was…odd, and kind of thrilling.

"Can I ask you something?"

I noticed his pause for just a moment before he regained his composure. He looked up, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Well, that depends," he held an empty picture frame in his hands. "Can I ask you something in return?"

I don't know why I said what I did, perhaps too much time spent with Alice and her horror collection. "You mean like Clarice and Dr. Lecter?"

He smiled; it was the same one I remembered from our botched séance, the real smile. "Are you comparing me to Hannibal Lecter?"

I flushed, "no, it just reminded me of…never mind, yes you can ask me something."

He sat there, still staring at me until I realized that he was letting me go first. "Um, did you know my mother very well?"

Edward rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "I knew her, she rented me the guesthouse. She came with Phil a few times…," he let his sentence trail off so it felt like an unfinished thought. "My turn?" He waited for my nod before continuing. "Are you dating anyone?" He watched me a little too carefully with that smirk on his face.

I smiled uncomfortably, "of course not."

"Why 'of course not'?" He casually swept a rag over another vase.

"Well," I huffed a small laugh. "I wouldn't have, you know, with you," I could feel the red all the way down to my toes. "If I was seeing someone." My response felt completely backward.

"Ah," he nodded.

"So…that," I was red already, I figured why not ask my natural follow up question. "Did that, I mean, was that just…nothing?" I had already grown, while not exactly comfortable with it, at least as alright with it as I was going to be. But a part of me still had to know what it meant to him.

"Nothing?" He looked down; I watched him pull his lower lip into his mouth. He sighed, "it wasn't nothing." He looked me in the eyes when he said it and I knew he could easily be blowing me off, but something about his expression told me not to jump to any conclusions just yet. After that, he cleaned off more things, holding them up to let me choose whether or not they were going to stay in the boxes. It was quiet, but only slightly uncomfortable, and I was sure that was only on my side. We'd gone through two boxes before he spoke again. "Why do I make you so nervous?"

"You don't make me nervous." I defended, knowing how horrendous a liar I was. When I glanced up, I saw him roll his eyes at me. But I didn't know what else to say. _When you're within reaching distance, I get the desire to pull you on top of me_, or how about – _that sex appeal you give off is so intoxicating I have to cross my legs whenever you look at me_. I didn't think either answer would go over very nicely. Or maybe I was afraid they would. Instead I said, "you always tease me; I'm not very good with…that." I felt like a child and I should have been aware that he would take my response and make a game of it.

"I tease you?" His question was rhetorical so he didn't wait for me to answer it. "Well, we don't want that, now do we," he raised an eyebrow at me like a thinly veiled proposition.

I shook my head. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"

"Is that your next question? Because I could show you just how much I can't help myself if you'd like."

"No, that's quite alright." I paused, wondering about something. "Why don't I ever see you with any women?" It's seemed to me that his raw talents shouldn't be going to waste, though jealously instantly rose up in place of the thought.

"Maybe I like my privacy."

I thought about that; it didn't seem entirely honest. So I pulled a counselor move and waited for him to fill the quiet.

"I used to…," he looked up at me, studying. "I don't do that anymore."

"How come?"

"I believe it's my turn. When was the last time you had sex?"

He said it on purpose to get a reaction from me, I could tell. But I answered anyway, "May. You?" I kept my eyes down when I asked.

"A few months ago. Was it good?" His expression was leaning toward mischievous.

"No," I answered before I could stop myself.

"Why not?"

"Nope, it's my turn. Same question."

He smirked, "yes, it was very good. Why not?" He asked again.

I set a glass bottle down and leaned back in my chair. "He wasn't, he had no idea what he was doing. I felt used afterward." I picked at my nails, needing to do something with my hands.

"Did he?"

"Did he what?" I looked up.

"Use you," his eyebrows were pulled down.

I shrugged, feeling strange that this no longer felt strange. "He left in the middle of the night and I never heard from him again, so I guess so."

He fisted his hands once and then leaned back, mirroring my position. "When was the last time you had _good_ sex?" His expression wasn't teasing, he just looked intensely curious.

I thought back; I'd had three partners in my life and none were particularly skilled, but they liked it, so I let them. "I don't know."

He lifted one side of his mouth in a smile. "I'll take that as a never."

"You don't know that," I frowned, embarrassed that he always so easily saw through me.

"Yes I do. Bella," my name rolled off his tongue. "If you'd had good sex in your lifetime, you'd definitely know it." He did that thing again where he looked at me and I could feel his hands though they weren't on me. He was quite good at it.

"My bathroom is finished," I said out of nowhere. Brilliant.

"Can I see it?" He looked as if he were about to laugh.

I almost said yes, but then remembered how the bathroom was only a couple of yards from my bed. "Um, maybe some other time." _Possibly when I had more self control around you._

Edward put his hands on his knees and pushed into a standing position. "It's getting late, I should head out."

Oh wonderful, I thought, I'd managed to ruin a perfectly good evening. I walked him to the door, trying to come up with reasons to get him back in the living room.

"Hey," he turned to face my disheartened expression. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, when I said – I didn't mean that I wanted you to leave." My overwhelming reluctance to let him go surprised me; it seemed to surprise him as well.

He smiled and I felt his fingers go under my chin, lifting it higher. "You apologize way too much." He paused in a way that made me feel studied. "Goodnight," he said quietly. He didn't wait for me to respond before he walked out the door.

I climbed the stairs in a trance akin to floating. I had questions, a lot of them, but I put that aside for the time being. When I got to my bedroom, I went straight through and didn't stop until I reached my new tub. I started the water and undressed, thinking about how I wasn't going to see Edward in the morning.

I liked him, more than a little bit. And it went past the way he touched me and the way he looked at me, past the words he spoke that flustered me so easily. I stepped into the warm water and lay back, closing my eyes.

What I saw was the way he smiled at me at the party, séance thing. And his notes, his funny way of letting me in without completely letting me in. The way he looked when I said I felt used, like he wanted to erase it for me. I wondered why he'd come over at all and how his being there made the whole day even better. And I wondered if his notes were a way of meeting me halfway. When things first started, it was physical, touch and taste and smell and look. Then I told him I couldn't let go like that and the notes started. Was there a way I could meet him the rest of the way? I still wasn't sure what he wanted from me.

I smiled, hoping so, and hoping I'd get a chance to peel back more layers because I wanted to see that smile again, the real one.

* * *

Author's Note: So, fiction recommendation for the maybe two people reading this that haven't read it already -

The University of Edward Masen by SebastienRobichaud. Summary: Edward Masen is the selfish and brooding university professor; Bella Swan is his shy, but determined graduate student. Appearances can be deceiving. Have their paths crossed before? Rated M for good reason, all human, canon pairings, AU, OOC, ExB

I can't even think of a proper way to express how much this story owns me right now. So yeah, just go read it, you won't be sorry.


	14. Thirteen Months Ago

Thirteen Months Ago…

Renee didn't realize she was calling so early until the phone was already ringing; she'd forgotten about the time difference between Florida and Washington. She counted backward, it was seven in the morning. She almost hung up, but then figured if she was going to wake Edward up, he had a right to know why. Even if her reasons weren't exactly time critical. She took a sip of her coffee and counted the rings; it was at five when a groggy voice answered.

"Hello?"

Renee was surprised to hear that the voice was female. "Um, yes, sorry for calling so early. May I speak with Edward?" Renee listened to what sounded like blankets shuffling and Edward's voice in the background.

"Hello? Is this Kate?"

She could hear his feet walking across the wood floors into another room. "No, it's Renee."

He paused and his feet stilled. "Oh, morning."

She did some quick deducing, "so, there's a Kate now? And whoever that was in bed with you?"

She could hear him yawn into the phone. "That's…kind of personal."

Renee chuckled, "Edward, please." She held respect for many things, but personal comfort zones were rarely one of them. How else were you supposed to really get to know someone?

He sighed into the phone, but said nothing.

"So, listen, I was calling to ask you to box up some of the stuff in the house. The smaller things, books, Marie's collections; you can use your own discretion. There should be some dust cloths in the upstairs linen closet, go ahead and cover the furniture too, please." She took another sip of coffee and reached into a cupboard to pull out some aspirin. She heard something closing and imagined Edward was rooting through his own cupboards as well.

"I thought you and Phil were coming up here next weekend?"

"Yeah, but I think I'm coming down with something, so we're going to postpone for a little bit." She thought about taking the pills with her coffee, but then set it down and grabbed a water glass.

"Oh…," was all he said. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Renee shrugged to herself, "just the flu or something."

"It's pretty early for flu season."

Renee shrugged again. "What are you gonna do?" She asked rhetorically.

"Well," Edward paused, "I'll work on the house today then."

"Thanks, Edward," she smiled into the phone.

"No problem, and…I'm around pretty much all the time so…feel free to call for…whatever…," he trailed off.

"Ok," Renee felt for a moment that Edward was so much like a little boy in some ways, and so much like a jaded adult in others. "I will."


	15. 12: Antiquing with the Socially Awkward

Author's Note: I can't think of anything to say, so...yeah. My most appreciative thank you's all around for reading, of course.

Nice reviews are better than chocolate, unless maybe you're licking that chocolate off someone.

* * *

Twelve: Antiquing with the Socially Awkward

It tends to be that the most inconsequential details of an experience are the ones that become stuck on a loop in my mind. This is how I came to find myself at an antique flea market, aptly named The Market, at 8 a.m. on a Saturday.

Edward had mentioned, while helping with the boxes, that the house looked bare. I'm sure the remark was only in passing, but I found myself wondering about it. I had gotten used to starving post-graduate minimalism (read: milk crates as multi-purpose furniture and storage), so my new cavernous space was nothing out of the ordinary. But, the question arose unbidden, what had this home looked like before? I had few memories of it as it was, and of those, all featured the outdoor parts of the property.

As time went on, the house had stood empty of occupants, the inside gathering dust during the long wait. And then things were covered, cleaned up, and boxed away. Edward was there, but no one really lived here anymore. The house seemed lonely. I was lonely.

So I'd roused Rosalie at the crack of seven with the promise of warm and sugary glazed treats, coffee, and good company. She was more excited about the former.

We met at one end of the outdoor market and exchanged my aforementioned goods for a morning of her design expertise. Rosalie was bundled up smartly for the crisp air in a coat and scarf, a pair of sunglasses covering her eyes. I had not dressed quite as diligently, my thin jacket a testament to a lifetime aversion to shopping.

Rosalie took a generous sip of coffee before moving. "So, what are we looking for?" We started down one of the informal aisles, the sun facing us; it felt good.

"Um," I started. "I don't know, everything?" The thought of finally filling that house was daunting.

She hmm'd and stopped at a booth to examine a set of wooden chairs. Suddenly, she brightened. "Does this mean I get free reign?" In that moment, she was Alice. She looked at me over the top of her sunglasses, giving her version of The Eyes.

I relented, knowing visions of the finished product were already dancing in her head. "But I'm on a budget," I reminded her, "a tight one."

"We'll start small. You already have a couple of love seats, that table from the séance, a dining table and chairs, the desk in the library, a nightstand…,"

I tried to figure out how she was able to tick the list off so quickly.

"So, you need a coffee table, maybe a couple of side tables for the den, at least two more tall lamps for downstairs, a sofa, maybe more than one -,"

"Aren't those expensive?"

"They can be; we wouldn't be able to find those here I don't think." She paused, looking thoughtful. "Is there anything you want?"

There was one thing, it wasn't that important and certainly unnecessary, but I'd always wanted it. "One of those big oversize chairs, the kind almost big enough for two people, you know? With an ottoman…To put by the fireplace in the library." I started to get lost in the fantasy of my happy place. I imagined the steady beat of rain outside and the warmth inside, a blanket around my shoulders and a fire crackling in the hearth, a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows in one hand, and a tattered book propped up in my lap. That was my perfect night.

"I bet we could find that," she continued walking, idly browsing, and grazing her fingers across whatever struck her fancy.

She ended up finding a few things that I Absolutely Needed. First there was a big square ottoman to use in the den in place of a coffee table; the leather was soft and I couldn't stop touching it. I watched with rapt attention as she haggled the price down by almost twenty five percent. She also found a lamp and two old side tables that could be sanded down and either stained or painted by me. I had found over the years of helping Esme with Rosalie and Alice that I had a certain affinity for that kind of work. The quiet rhythm of refinishing, bringing back something's original beauty, was calming in a way that was almost hypnotic.

"Don't think I haven't forgotten what tomorrow is," Rosalie said pointedly about midway through the market.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." We were at a booth filled entirely with stained glass; my two left feet were never more prominent.

"Oh come on," she lifted a small square of glass; it was different shades of pink, from cherry blossom to cerise. "They haven't been all bad."

"When I was eight, I caught Charlie flushing my dead goldfish down the toilet. Twelve, I got gum in my hair and you thought it would be a good idea to cut it out yourself -,"

Rosalie giggled. "I'm still sorry about that."

"When I turned seventeen, my boyfriend dumped me for that…whatever her name was. On my eighteenth birthday, I ended up in the hospital. You were there, remember?" I thrust my hand out palm up, where a small dappling of scars sat flush against the inside of my arm.

She was still laughing. "Your…hair…," she made a gesture to her own with both hands. "Remember it was uneven for weeks."

I was not quite as entertained by the memory as she was. "I'm glad I could amuse you." But then I let myself smile. "Renee was so pissed…,"

And just as quickly as our moment of levity began, it ended. I swallowed and turned to look at a row of glass.

"How about this?" She held up a little circle, made to look like a rose window. It reminded me of looking into a kaleidoscope, dark blue, green, and purple.

I nodded, "it's pretty."

She bought it and they wrapped it for her. "Happy birthday," she bumped into my side lightly.

"Thanks," I bumped her back.

The melancholy passed after a while and soon enough I found myself in a deep discussion of the merits of Saved by the Bell.

"I didn't like Zack," Rosalie commented with distaste. "He was too…blonde."

"You're pretty blonde."

"I like to diversify. You liked him, I remember," she grinned.

"He had that hair," it was the kind I wanted to run my fingers through even as a kid.

"I never understood what he saw in Kelly."

I shrugged, "I don't know, I guess she -," I was stopped abruptly by Rosalie's hand smacking my arm in a bid for attention.

"What?" I looked up to see what she was staring at. At first, all I saw were two men walking with a little girl. When I took another half a second to process, I saw that one of the men was Edward. And the other one was Emmett…with his sister…the sister Rosalie didn't know about.

How upset was Rosalie about to get if she assumed Emmett had a significant other and a child? And why was Edward with them? Maybe we should stop for wine later. I braced myself for a litany of misunderstandings.

"Rosie!" The girl pulled out of Emmett's grasp went barreling toward Rosalie, who for her part had knelt down and opened her arms in expectation.

Now, I consider myself fairly observant, but I was positive in this situation I had missed something. When I looked up, Edward shrugged at me and Emmett was smiling. We watched the happy scene for another second before Rosalie straightened up; her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright. She was doing the shy thing again which always threw me off kilter. "Emmett, I didn't figure you for an antique market person." She pulled up her sunglasses so they rested on her head.

"Tell her what we're looking for Abigail," he grinned down at the little girl.

"A record player! And Muddy Waters At Newport!" She spoke emphatically, as if everything she said was absolutely vital. Abby was possibly the most adorable person I'd ever seen.

Emmett nodded, "she has a thing for the blues." He said it proudly.

Rosalie looked at me, sending a silent message to which I nodded somewhat reluctantly. "I could…help you look," she offered.

His smile was wide and before I knew it, they'd left me with Edward. After the requisite "so…um…" from the both of us, we started down the last aisle, though without Rosalie's keen eye I wasn't sure what I was still doing there. Edward looked a little lost as well.

"Can I ask you something?"

He smiled at something and stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. "What if I said no?"

I looked down, feeling the miasma of my own awkwardness.

"Yes, you can ask me something," I could feel him looking at me as we walked and I had to work up the courage to ask the question that wasn't at all important in the first place.

"Are you…I mean…do you come here often?" I flushed that what had come out of my mouth sounded like a pick-up line and vowed to work on my lackluster communication abilities, even if that meant talking to myself in the mirror.

"You've seen my house," he shrugged.

I remembered the anarchy that had taken over all his available space, the papers, floor globes and odd knick knacks, the bookshelves you could hardly see under the mass of literature; I shouldn't have been surprised at all to see him here. "Looking for a book or something?"

He cleared his throat, "yeah, maybe."

"Why antiques?"

I watched as he stopped at a booth filled only with chairs. "I like that they've lived a life already, that someone cared enough to keep them in good condition. And," he shrugged again, "they've got more personality."

I nodded; his reasoning was the same as my own. Another question occurred to me and so I threw it in while he was still being amenable. "Why were you here with Emmett?"

We continued walking, pausing briefly at the next booth. "You know, I probably spend more time with the Cullens and the construction people than you do." He tilted his head, looking over at me with a small grin that made me feel warm. "I don't leave much, it happens when you work from home."

"Oh, I didn't think…,"

"They have lunch outside when it isn't raining; Esme tends to be a little insistent on my eating with them," he chuckled lightly. "And we've run into each other a few times…today, for example."

I smiled at the thought of Esme dragging Edward out of his cave to eat with them; it was very…_her_. During the summer months of our childhood, Alice and I always spent the most time at Rosalie's house because it was the furthest from town and thus, closest to the woods. It was a time before we cared about getting dirty, all the bugs and scraped knees, or what time it was.

"_Hey, look!" Alice stood up from where she'd been kneeling next to a rock. She was dappled with the bright sunlight of midday and her smile was wide as she held her hand out, palm up._

_Rosalie and I rested against a weathered tree trunk, our legs splayed out on the cool grass. We looked up to see what new thing Alice had found. A tiny ladybug was nestled in the middle of her hand. It walked along the lines as if they were highways, first one direction and then the other._

"_Ew! Gross!" Rosalie scrambled to her feet and jumped a safe distance away._

_Alice put a hand on her hip. _

"_It's just a ladybug," I stood up as we tried to transfer it from her hand to mine._

"_Yeah, _bug_," Rosalie's voice dripped with disgust._

_Alice giggled._

_Our attention was caught before we could say anything else. "Girls," a woman's voice called out._

_The ladybug flew away._

"_Over here, mom!"_

_Esme approached, picnic basket in hand. She tucked some wayward strands of hair behind her ear. "There you are," she smiled at us. "It's time for lunch."_

"_I thought we were supposed to go home for lunch?" Rosalie asked, a flare of annoyance rising at the thought of our alone time being cut short for something as trivial as food._

"_Mm-hmm," Esme spread out a blanket in a patch of sunlight. "That was an hour ago." She gave her a look that was both reproachful and forgiving as the four of us settled onto the soft plaid fabric. She pulled out sandwiches and chips and juice boxes. She poked our straws through the tops for us and took one for herself which I thought looked kind of funny. _

_I wondered after that day what the rules were for moms and if kids were allowed to have their real mom, plus maybe one more. If they were really nice._

"Bella?" I heard Edward's voice somewhere in the din of my recollections.

"Hm?" I asked, distracted.

"I asked what you were looking for."

"Oh."

I felt his hand, the tips of his fingers brushing against mine; I couldn't tell if it was on purpose or not. I blinked, not realizing my eyes had welled with tears. "Yeah…I uh, bought some stuff with Rosalie actually." It suddenly hit me - how in the world I was going to fit a giant ottoman, a lamp, and two side tables into my little car?

"What kind of stuff?"

"Uh…," my wheels turned. Did Rosalie have her phone with her? Maybe Emmett had a truck. No, I didn't want to ask them for help. They'd looked so much like a family when they walked away together; it made me worry about her and the rules she'd set up to keep her standing at work secure, but I still wanted her to be happy. That whole situation was getting confusing.

So my problem solving went in another direction. Perhaps, with some cleverness on my part, my new things would manage to fit. "I got some furniture for the house."

He offered to help me bring it to the car and I accepted, lest I spend the rest of my afternoon dragging everything across the pavement.

As soon as he saw my car, he started laughing. "I forgot you drove this little thing."

I shifted from one foot to the other, "yeah…I thought that maybe once I had it all over here, it would seem bigger, but…it doesn't…," I stared dejectedly at my beautiful but impractical car.

"Well," he kind of smiled like he was trying not to laugh. "Let's see…," he peered into the windows, like perhaps it would be larger on the inside. "Yeah, it's not gonna fit." He sighed, "I think I can get the ottoman in my car…if I drive with the trunk open."

I had a sudden flash of broken bits of wood and ripped leather scattered down the street.

"I'll make sure it's gets to where it going," he said. "You two should have thought about this earlier."

"Yeah, I know," was all I could think to say. We strapped my new things in as best we could and then took off, Edward's boxy grey car behind mine. I noticed after a minute that he was no longer following and I slowed down to let him catch up. But he didn't. So I sighed, putting it into the things-I-don't-know column, which severely outweighed its opposing side. I knew I would see him sooner or later.

Once I was home, I dispersed the furniture around the downstairs. The lamp got put in the den, as did a side table. But I had nothing to put it on the side of, so instead it got pushed underneath a window. The second table, I put in the library near the fireplace; it looked ready for the big cushy chair that would go beside it some day. I took my little piece of stained glass with me up to my bedroom and set it against a window so it would catch the morning light.

Edward came and went later with a quietness I hadn't predicted. He carried the ottoman inside and set it in the den; it looked strange resting between the two kitchen chairs left there from the last time he was over. He let himself out the back door without any wit or fanfare and then he was gone and for a while I thought I'd imagined the whole thing.

I had a dream that night about my mother. She was in that bathing suit again, the one that made her look like a '40's film star. I was standing on the edge of the dock, watching her float on her back; she was speaking, but I couldn't hear. Instead I was captivated by how alive she was and how brightly the sun shone off her skin; it was like one of those old Technicolor movies where the screen is saturated emerald green and sapphire, creamy white and deep red.

Her lips kept moving as if she didn't know I couldn't hear anything. She smiled and motioned with her hands. _Come on! _They seemed to say.

I woke up early, too early; I tried to go back to sleep. I wanted to hear what my mother was trying to tell me, but I couldn't. And there was another reason.

It was September 13th, my birthday. I buried my mother a month and ten days ago. There would be no phone call with the exaggerated _"happy birthday!" _by a smiling voice today, no outlandish birthday gift – last year it was a simple bracelet delivered to my apartment door by those singing telegram people that dress up like leprechauns and Santa Claus – mine were a barbershop quartet.

But mostly, there was no Renee. The complete absence was suffocating in its isolation. It was, I suppose, the first time I truly got it. It was a little like being the captain of a ship during a midnight storm; the shore was out there somewhere, but the bright beam from the lighthouse was missing. I had to navigate my own way from here.

I stayed in bed until my back started to hurt and when I finally made it downstairs, I couldn't decide what to do. I made coffee I wasn't thirsty for and toast that felt like old cardboard on my tongue. After throwing the remnants out, I made my way to the back door, hoping the openness would help me to breathe.

There was something there, on the porch; the old glass from the door distorted the picture for me but I saw that it was bright and blue, and other colors.

Pulling my robe closed, I stepped into the chill air. It was a blue vase, much like the ones I had; it was old too, but I didn't recognize it as being recently unpacked. It held flowers, yellow daffodils with orange middles, bright like the Technicolor dream I'd had. They looked happy. I picked them up and pressed them to my face; they smelled happy too. When I looked up from the soft blooms, I noticed a new note tacked onto the stairs; I grabbed it, suddenly anxious to see what new things he wanted to tell me.

_I majored in history and comparative literature._

_I want you to come over for dinner tonight._

_P.S. Happy Birthday, Bella._


	16. Thirteen: Lost and Found and Lost Again

Author's Note: I was determined to get this chapter out today and I made it, if only barely. Anyway lovelies, thanks for reading and being patient with my fickle imagination. I have a flashback chapter coming as well, that should be up by the end of the weekend.

* * *

Thirteen: Lost and Found and Lost Again

I was, to put it lightly, caught off guard.

And a mix of other things not clear enough to identify. It was that moment when you realize you just might get what you want and you're terrified. And what if, what if, what if…the insecurities abound.

So, I took the flowers inside and put them on the kitchen table. And then I cleaned the kitchen, all of it. Once finished stacking the last of the dishes, I realized I needed more to do. It was only nine in the morning. So I went about attacking the dust in each room. Then laundry, vacuuming, polishing, window cleaning, linen changing, and any other mind numbing task I could think of. It worked for a while.

However, after the house was spotless and I was in the shower, I could tackle my thoughts into submission no longer. I liked Edward, that much had been established. What he felt or wanted had yet to be seen, though I'd gotten to the point where I hoped it was me, as in all of me. And therein lies the problem.

Regardless of his feelings, or lack thereof, I wanted to go for it. All potential heart stomping aside, I found Edward kind and smart and sharply funny. And sometimes I thought he was sad, and sometimes I thought he was pushing me away, but it didn't matter. I was going to be there, in whatever way he'd let me. So, in a rhetoric I don't usually use, I was going to make my move. And that was the problem that had me scrubbing away at imaginary dirt all morning. Because I had no moves, I had an absolute lack of game.

Now I should digress for a moment. My, shall I say, move-less-ness had never bothered me before. And I suppose part of that was because I had been spoiled in that arena. Starting in high school, and then later, males tended to approach me. I had a supply of dates, though I still believed I was only popular by association, and it wasn't ever something I had to think much about. I'm not saying this was bad, sometimes it was nice, even though the attention became fishbowl-esque. The bad part was that not one of those boys liked _me; _they just liked what they thought I could do for them in that lame high-school melodrama kind of way.

After college, it all slowed down for me and I found that the whole charade didn't appeal, and that really, it never had. Getting dressed up to be noticed by a man (any man?), flirting, acting, all the while hoping they look at you when they walk by – it was all this big game. So I became comfortable in my solitary life; I had friends, I wasn't a shut in. I was…fine. And no more did I try to play the game.

It wasn't until Edward came into my life, or I came into his, that I realized how utterly lonely I was. And I thought he might be as well. And I thought what sad souls we were. Or, possibly I was only projecting, I didn't know for sure.

I got out of the shower and put on comfortable clothes, seeing as it was still too early, then went downstairs for lunch. That's where I ran into Alice and Rosalie.

"Happy birthday!"

I clutched at my palpitating heart at the bottom of the stairs; they loved surprising me because they knew how much I didn't love it. "Fudge," I said when I could breathe again.

Alice giggled. "We brought wine."

"When do you not bring wine?" I asked; I looked at the time.

Rosalie caught my glance toward the clock. "Hey, it's eight thirty in London."

"She means p.m." Alice added.

When we made it to the kitchen, I saw they'd laid out a devil's food cake and yes, wine. Red, you know, to go with the cake. So that was lunch. It went on into the afternoon and Alice promised that the cake and the wine was the only gift she brought and that her lack of present was the present.

We questioned and answered with each other for a long time.

How did Rosalie know about Emmett's sister?

- She comes to the office with him from time to time.

Is there anything happening between Alice and Jasper?

- They've been out; there are sparks, not much to report.

What about myself and Edward?

- I'm not sure.

I didn't tell them about the dinner invitation.

The whole afternoon was strange. They were both deliberately not saying something and I knew it. I was deliberately not saying something and they knew it. This keeping secrets thing was foreign and left a bitter taste in my mouth. But once they left I had little time to wonder about it.

I went upstairs and got ready, purposely choosing a top in the color family Edward mentioned was his favorite. Ignoring the bird wing flutter in my chest, I jogged down the steps and into the kitchen for a bottle of wine, unwilling to show up at his door empty handed. Choosing one quickly, I felt a little proud that I'd gone most of the afternoon without thinking too much about what might happen, or what might not happen. As a matter of fact, I spent so much time avoiding over-analyzing that I forgot one crucial thing about today. That is, until I heard the knocking on my door.

"Dad," I said by way of a greeting.

He looked me over curiously, apparently hearing the note of surprise in my voice. His eyes stopped on the wine. "You're not drinking alone, are you?"

"What? Oh, this," I glanced down at my hand. "No, I was just…rearranging some things…," I looked up at Charlie and he looked down at me.

"Well, happy birthday Bells." He shifted his weight as if he were waiting for something. I noticed he was holding a crudely wrapped gift in one hand.

"Oh!" I realized I hadn't let him inside yet. "Thanks."

He walked in cautiously, his eyes sweeping over the entryway like he was searching for the cause of my unusual behavior. "It is Sunday, right?" He seemed to say mostly to himself.

I told him it was and that I was a little out of sorts today. He accepted my excuse as I tried to think of ways to sneak away and tell Edward I was going to be late. Charlie followed me into the kitchen and set my gift down on the table while I looked through the refrigerator for something not too heavy, considering I'd be eating dinner twice. I couldn't bear to tell Edward that I would not only be late, but that all his cooking time would be for naught. I finally settled on some light fare and got it started.

He nudged my gift toward me when I turned from the stove. "I didn't spend any money."

I was more transparent than I originally thought; I smiled toward his hands and took my present. I tore off the silver paper, leftover from Christmas I thought.

"I found it when I was cleaning out the garage; your mother put it together."

It was an album from when I was young, too young to remember any of the photographs being taken. In them, we were a family again and death was something that happened to other people. My parents looked happy. There were pages of them laughing candidly, Charlie holding me on his lap, and then later, my mother's efforts at dressing me up and the resulting nudist campaign that always ensued. Charlie was looking at them upside down, the nostalgia apparent. I thought then about birthday wishes, how I never made any because somewhere along the line I'd become cynical – though that didn't seem like quite the right word. I'd put away childish things, but in doing that, I'd gotten rid of all the good stuff too. So I thought about those wishes and how I wanted to gather them all up into one big wish. A wish that I could do it all over. That I would laugh more, live more, all those idealistic things that I knew were too late for me now. I felt the loss of myself like a missing limb - strange sensations, but no real presence. I don't know when I let myself get this way.

Charlie cleared his throat, keeping his eyes down. "I'm going to check the mouse traps." He got up quickly.

"Hey, dad," I said when he reached the doorway. "Thanks," I smiled, hoping my gratitude would translate.

He gave me a little nod, but didn't say anything.

I went through the rest of the album while the food cooked and my father hid away in the attic. I knew it was difficult and didn't begrudge him a little time alone.

In the pictures and in general, Renee always looked happy, more than happy, whatever that word might be. Before she got sick, I'd always thought of her as restless, adventurous, and maybe a little immature. But that wasn't really accurate. My mother was too many things and had too much light inside to be able to contain it in an ordinary life. I wondered now why none of that passed down to me, or perhaps it had, and I had crushed it in my efforts to be something different. To be seen outside her shadow. I sighed, entirely sick of thinking so much about myself.

I checked the time; it was almost six so I made a quick dash outside to talk to Edward. He had what looked like marinara sauce on his t-shirt and seemed relieved when I told him I'd be late.

"Hey," I felt his hand go around my wrist when I turned to leave. His fingers overlapped. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." I wasn't aware that my melancholy had shown through; I hoped it wouldn't ruin either dinner. "Just not much of a birthday person." I told him I'd see him in a while and then left, touching the place where his fingers had been.

I ate a small serving with Charlie, who predictably ate enough for the both of us. It was quiet, with a small mention of doing some work on his house and a few questions about my own renovations. Afterward, I showed him the new bathroom and he was impressed by the Cullens' prowess.

By the time we were at the front door again, it was dark outside. In a fit of emotional longing, I reached up gave Charlie a hug, a real one. He hugged back. When we pulled apart, he was studying my face. "Was that ok?" He asked, jutting his chin slightly toward the kitchen where my gift was still sitting.

I nodded, "yeah, it was very ok. Thank you, again."

He gave me a half smile. "See you around, Bells."

"Sunday," I reminded myself.

"Sunday," he repeated.

I felt more tired than I had a right to after spending the entire day at home, so my nerves were not nearly as on edge as I thought they'd be once I reached Edward's front door. I stomped my rain boots on his mat as I knocked; it had gotten just drizzly enough to muddy the property.

Edward answered wearing a fresh shirt, the sleeves pushed up his forearms; he held a ladle in one hand. "I hope you're hungry." He said as he let me inside.

"Uh…yeah," was my mumbled reply. I slipped my boots off and sat them next to his much larger ones in the entryway.

His kitchen was surprisingly clean, and it smelled vaguely of chemicals. I remembered the spot of sauce on his shirt earlier and wondered just how much of a mess he'd made. No matter, it smelled good. Very good. Enough that the progressive fantasizing habit I thought I'd kicked was showing itself; I cursed myself and my one track mind. I wanted to get to know him and that wouldn't be possible if I was daydreaming about being underneath him, at least, not in the way I meant to get to know him.

I sat at his little table, unsure if my help was welcome or not, but I needed something of a distraction. He stirred the sauce and I looked at my hands. "Thanks, by the way," I said after a minute, "for the flowers. They were beautiful."

Edward didn't say anything, but did turn around; I didn't look up to see his expression. In the quiet that followed, I resisted the urge to apologize again for being so late. I heard him chuckle as if he could hear my internal monologue and I flushed at my feet. When I finally looked up again, he was looking at me. "It's ready."

He kept everything on the stove, including bread that he'd taken out of the oven, and let me serve myself. I filled a wine glass and pondered over whether or not I had a drinking problem; I didn't think so.

And then the strangest thing happened. Edward started talking, to me, conversationally. And it was nice, more than nice, really. Without the mutual acerbic façade, the two of us clicked in a way I'd never quite achieved with anyone beside Alice and Rosalie. There was no ebbing to our back and forth except inside myself where I was having another talk entirely. One that questioned where this came from and why he was being so kind and then the opposing side which argued that I should just shut up and enjoy it, which was what I did. It was around the tail end of this Edward said something I was not expecting and I don't think he was expecting to say either.

"I didn't want to like you." It was a quiet sentence, an afterthought, some distant thing being made verbal. He brought his glass to his lips as if to cover up what he'd already said. I watched him swallow.

It didn't bother me that he felt this way. I didn't want to like him either; I remembered my first descriptions of him to myself and my friends – crass, rude, and teasing, unknowable. I had never wanted that; I wanted normal in all facets of my life, including romance. But now I found myself wanting something else; until now, I didn't even know if it existed. What was it, exactly? I couldn't be sure and I was more than a little afraid of finding out, and also, of not. But still I asked, "why?"

He drained his glass. "I think…that's a story for another time."

"There's a story?" I set my fork down on my empty plate.

He smirked, "isn't there always?" He got up and grabbed his plate and mine as well, but I stopped him.

"You cooked," I took our things to the sink, put the leftovers in the refrigerator, and washed everything. There was an almost hypnotic quality to chores like this, quiet work, I called it. It gave me a chance to stop thinking so much. I could feel the alcohol in my system, slowing everything down by a fraction, not enough for impairment, just enough to notice. When I was finished, I wiped my hands on a towel and then set it on the counter.

I turned around and saw Edward leaning against the door jamb, arms crossed.

"Have you been there this whole time?" I asked before I could censor myself.

He grinned lopsidedly, "just the last couple of minutes. Did you know you hum when you wash dishes?"

In fact, I did not.

He took a few steps into the room, close enough now that I felt the tile from the counter pressing into my lower back when I looked up at him. "I couldn't tell what song it was, though." If he had asked me to take all my clothes off, he would have used the same tone of voice.

I made a slightly uncomfortable sound to indicate I'd heard him. I could also taste the slight bitterness from my second glass of wine when I licked my lips automatically at his closeness, and felt the light flush that it resulted in. His eyes darted down to my mouth and then caught my gaze again. Held it.

_Go for it._

I tilted my head up in a silent yes to a question that wasn't asked. And for a brief moment I thought of that afternoon in the pond, and then that night Edward saw me drunk. I thought of what I wanted to do to him and what I wanted him to do to me and how, the last time, he controlled me utterly and completely. I wanted to feel that again.

He moved his face closer, but instead of my mouth, he grazed his lips over the pulse point below my ear. I felt his thumb move across the same spot on the other side. It was soft and almost timid and not at all what I was expecting. I pulled back, just barely, to look at him. His expression wasn't one I'd ever seen on his face before. He was yielding and hopeful and maybe a little nervous. Why? I thought to myself, it was just me.

Edward's hands were at the sides of my neck, careful, as if I would break at any moment. When he spoke, his voice carried that same soft quality, but deeper now, "this was how it should have been…the first time…," he waited then, for whatever it was he was always looking for in my face.

I realized that I was gripping his shirt so I loosened my hold and tried to smile at him, but it came out uneven. There was something else catching my attention; the word love flitted through my mind and constricted my vision until only Edward was in focus. He kissed me then like he already knew, or perhaps that was what he was looking for. It all felt thick around me, it seemed so obvious now. I wrapped my arms around him and felt the tension in his body. Edward was holding back.

My fantasies had never been of a gentle Edward, quite the opposite. So, the knowledge that he was holding back for my sake filled me with something akin to brazenness; I wanted him to lose control. I wanted him to take mine. So I reached my hands into his hair, felt his breath hitch, tried to remember that he liked that. His kisses were chaste so I took a breath and finished a kiss by pressing my teeth ever so slightly into his bottom lip.

He made a noise that sounded like a growl; I felt him hesitate. And then he pulled back. I thought I'd done something wrong and immediately felt embarrassment because of my actions. But he grinned crookedly at me. "Prude," he said, sounding proud and a little surprised.

My eyes widened and my mouth parted just barely.

Edward brought his hands from my neck, down my sides, to my hips, or maybe a little lower than that. In one swift motion, I was lifted off the ground and into a position I was familiar with from our first excursion. He spoke with an equal mixture of amusement and demand. "Do that again." I crossed my ankles behind him and fell into the sensation. My eyes closed and I tasted him. Wine and something vaguely spicy. I became aware at some point that we'd moved into another room; I took a breath. We were in his bedroom. I couldn't say much about it at that point. His frame was wrought iron; I felt its coolness under my legs when he lay me down. I scooted up until my head met the pillows. His bedspread was a color I couldn't place in the dark of the room, something like brown, but lighter.

I found Edward standing at the side of the bed, just a silhouette in the dim light from the window; he was looking at me, I could tell that much. After a second he pulled off his shirt and if it weren't for my girlish self confidence issues, I would have turned the lamp on. He was a shadow until he was finally on the bed with me. But still I felt more than saw his mouth on my collarbone and then higher to _that_ spot, the spot he'd first marked me. His teeth pressed into my skin and I moved my head back, willing and suppliant, giving him more room. He could have drawn blood if he'd wanted. I felt the rumble of words against my throat, but couldn't make them out.

Time, in the way it sometimes has, stopped making sense to me after that. Instead it passed in touches and sounds and sudden intakes of air. His cold hands made me shiver when he gripped me around the waist; he rolled us both until I straddled him. He sat up and I could feel his gaze, hungry, like mine. "Off," he pulled at my shirt, hard enough that somewhere I heard a thread snap. It was fluttering to the ground before I knew what happened.

And then his hands, oh _his hands. _They moved deftly and when I felt them at the clasp of my bra, I realized I'd only been sitting there, watching him. So I shifted forward a little, I wanted his neck, his jaw, everything. A hand went into his hair, pulled; he tasted a little like sweat and something else.

Edward's lips on me, his tongue between my breasts. We shifted; I licked the spot below his Adam's apple and he hummed for me.

Buttons opening, zippers pulling down. I tugged at his jeans and his hips jerked up underneath me. I gasped and he grinned. He lifted them again, more slowly; together, we got them to the floor.

His hands were under my calves and then I was falling backward; my breath left me in a quick rush when my back hit the mattress. The ceiling, all I could see was the ceiling. My pants slipped down. I raised myself to my elbows, saw Edward. That was better. He held one bare leg around the ankle, kissed the inside, kept his eyes fastened to mine. And then, "look at me," there it was again. His free hand kneaded up my other leg, brushed the skin behind my knee. I giggled. His tongue grazed up the inside of my thigh and I moaned, my head falling back. Teeth, I looked at him again. His fingertips went under the waistband of my underwear, but he made no motion to take them off. His face hovered right over me. I clenched my teeth together; I think he was waiting for me to beg him. He licked his lips.

"Please," my voice sounded half strangled. I watched a wicked smile appear, triumphant. I felt the last piece of fabric covering my body come down fast, still I watched. He reached for my hips, tugged me toward him. His tongue drew a slow line, bottom to top. I let myself fall back on the mattress. Edward didn't seem to mind.

Somewhere along the line, the pillows had fallen off the bed; I had no orientation to know if I was at the head or the foot. It didn't matter. Edward pressed a hand onto my lower back, arching me up to meet his thrusts; I wrapped my legs around his. The nails of one hand left a path on his back; I wanted to leave a mark too.

Edward groaned into my neck, slick from the heat. The hand that had been at my back came between us and I reached a new level. I held onto him more tightly. "Please," I begged, unsure of what I was asking.

The last thing I saw was Edward coming apart with me. My eyes squeezed shut and it was a little like falling. An agonizing oblivion. A live wire. Push and pull. And then a faint thought again, growing stronger. _I love him_. That was my forever.

It was warmer under the covers, on top of Edward. My head rested over his heart; it seemed appropriate. His hands were skimming idly over me, through my hair and down my back, a quiet rotation with casual detours. "Stay here," he said, and I didn't know if he meant here on him, or here in the house, but he wasn't asking, he was telling. He wrapped his arms around me and I could tell he was slipping under.

I closed my eyes, relaxing into this new skin and this new place.

Morning came too soon, but not harshly. The light was the deep grey of fog; I pictured it hovering over the pond and between the trees. I reveled in the feeling of being cloaked inside it, cut off from the world.

Sometime during the night, Edward and I had reversed positions. Now it was his face resting on my chest and my arms wrapped around him. I tried to relax again, but my swelling emotions gave me a kind of energy not conducive to sleeping late. Briefly, I thought of work and the time. It was difficult to judge by the light here. So I slid out from under him, a growing sense of work ethic and responsibility taking over - maybe this skin wasn't entirely new. I found Edward's shirt at my feet so I pulled it on; it smelled like him. So, I imagined, did I.

On the microwave clock, I saw that it was barely seven; I had a little time. Fishing around in his refrigerator, I found eggs and bacon; I thought it would be nice, waking up to the smell of breakfast on the stove.

It had no sooner started to sizzle when I heard Edward's footsteps padding down the hallway; I kept my back to the door, smiling to myself. The door opened and he came up behind me, yawning quietly; I could feel how warm he still was when his arms came around my middle. He kissed my shoulder. "You're wearing my shirt." He nipped at the bare skin of my neck and I shivered, leaning back into his chest.

I turned around, noticing he'd put last nights jeans on; they were unbuttoned, riding low on his hips. I opened my mouth to say something that would get us back into bed when someone knocked on his door. We looked at each other, perplexed.

He went back into the bedroom quickly to grab a shirt, slipping it on as he came back down the hall. Whoever it was knocked again. I waited near the kitchen doorway while he answered.

It was a woman, blonde and stunning and partially blocked from my view because of Edward. Automatically I tugged at the hem of my t-shirt, trying to cover up. I took a step back, intending to hide in the kitchen, but the small movement allowed me to see the reason behind the prolonged silence. There was a baby in a car seat, only a tiny face visible within the blanket, sleeping at her feet.

The blonde grinned at Edward. "Hello, daddy."

* * *

Author's Note: Don't hate the player, hate the game. :)

And anyway, have I ever steered you wrong?


	17. Twelve Months Ago

Twelve Months Ago…

Renee pressed the phone between her ear and shoulder, dunking both hands into the soapy water. This was how she'd killed her last phone. Accidental drowning, she told Phil after he spotted it taken apart and drying in the sun.

She was setting a clean plate on the rack to dry when she heard a low chuckle. "Oh," she pulled her hands from the sink. "Edward?"

"I thought maybe you called just to hum me to sleep."

She felt her cheeks flush lightly and grabbed a towel. "This is Renee, by the way," she said, with only a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"I figured as much." She heard the sound of something opening and then closing, possibly the fridge. It occurred to her that they always began in the kitchen. "So," he continued, "is this a social call?"

Renee didn't want to outright admit it, but she worried about him all alone on that big property, with girls coming in and out of his life who knew how often. Normally, she preferred a non-subtle approach, but she could find out how he was doing without actually asking. She was a mother, after all. "Was I really humming?"

There was a light breath of laughter in her ear. "Yeah."

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully. "My daughter does that too."

She thought she could hear his footsteps, "she probably got it from you," and then the sound of him settling down somewhere.

Renee smiled, "probably…she got a lot from me…It's her birthday today."

"Oh?" He was starting to sound suspicious.

"Yeah, she lives out there, not too far from you, actually."

"…Renee."

She sat at the table, opening a magazine. "Just sharing information." _Hmm_, she looked at an article on a Hungarian university, _they teach their lessons in English; that could be interesting. _"So, your dance card is pretty full then?" She was tiring of the finesse approach.

"I'm not answering that."

Renee flipped the page. "I'll take that as a yes. That's fine; just keep them out of the main house, if you don't mind." She couldn't trust strangers not to break anything, or steal it, even if everything was boxed up…_Travel the Mediterranean_. She and Phil missed that during their European vacation last year.

Edward sighed. "If you must know, it's two girls. And they're only ever in the guest house with me." He cleared his throat, "one at a time, I mean."

Renee frowned. "They're ok sharing you?"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure I'm sharing them, so…,"

She felt a crease form between her eyebrows. "You deserve more than that." She could tell he shrugged, though he didn't say anything. Renee was getting the sense that there wasn't much time left before he'd close up for good, or, at least for the night. She decided to cut him some slack. "You know, my daughter hates her birthday."

Edward's voice held a hint of disbelief. "Why?"

Renee grinned at the deluge of memories, "things tend to…not go well." Her grin turned into a laugh. "This one time…,"


	18. Fourteen: Everything is Fine

Author's Note: Hello and thanks to everyone for stopping by. More at the bottom.

* * *

Fourteen: Everything is Fine

Sugar.

My first thought was that her voice sounded exactly like sugar.

After that, I didn't have a single viable idea with the exception of the knowledge that I needed to get as far away as possible. So as swiftly as one can when one is wearing nothing but a men's t-shirt, I moved around Edward; I bumped his shoulder, but he said nothing. "Sorry," I said inanely. Tripping over a stack of books near the front door, I caught the blonde's eye. "Sorry to uh, yeah, you guys probably have a lot…I should go, nice meeting you." I hugged the door frame and slid out into the freezing morning, dimly aware that we had not actually been introduced.

On my way across the lawn, I slipped in the mud; I only hoped they weren't looking. I had a quick flash of them having a good laugh over it. My bare feet grew numb by the time I reached my back porch and I fell once again, this time slamming my knee into the top step. I scrambled inside without checking for a cut.

The shower felt good. I washed Edward and the traces of mud off my skin and out of my hair and then went back and did it again. When I was finished, I changed into slacks and a long sleeve shirt, both black. I looked like I was in mourning so I changed the top. Red, for pissed off. Oddly enough however, I was not. I wasn't really anything; it was sort of like my brain had given up on me, threw in the towel - too much to deal with and inadequate information in which to do it. I tried to enjoy the mind haze while it was still there.

Some time in between a staff meeting and my first appointment, I figured it out. This was the denial stage, the part where I go about my day in well, denial. A gorgeous woman didn't show up at Edward's doorstep claiming him as the father of her child. He and I didn't share possibly the most incredible night of my life. This isn't over before it's even begun and that thought doesn't make me feel like my heart's being cut out of my chest with a carving knife.

Everything's fine.

Around lunchtime, I was drawing stick figures on my note pad when my door opened unexpectedly.

"Excuse me, you can't just walk -,"

"Its fine," Rosalie pushed the door open, my harried assistant half a step behind. She always tried to make Rosalie wait and Rosalie never did, the dance was very familiar and I was beginning to think they did it anyway just to irritate each other.

When I looked up, I saw that Rosalie's eyes were red and glassy, as if she'd been crying. She sat down and handed me what turned out to be a hot container of chicken alfredo; when I tried to set it aside she frowned at me. "What's wrong?" I asked, picking up the fork to appease her.

I saw her jaw flex as she gathered herself; she took the spare set of plastic utensils. "I need to tell you something," she said it and then promptly speared a piece of chicken.

I spun some pasta onto my fork and took a bite, waiting for whatever it was she had to say. "Ok?" I nudged.

She looked up at me, then down, then back up again, worry lines creasing her forehead. "I've been lying to you."

For a split second, my mind yelled – I don't want to hear it! No more today! But instead I leaned forward, ready to listen.

She took another bite of food, stalling. Around the piece of chicken she said, "I slept with Emmett."

For a second, I was blank.

"Back in July."

That was the lie part, alright; this was something I could work with. "That's not so bad, why -," I stopped myself short. I wanted to ask why she was crying, but it would be like admitting I'd seen some weakness in her, however normal it was to me. Rosalie never cried.

She started to ramble. "I wanted to tell you guys after it happened, but then – you know, so I put it off. And then I started thinking that Emmett was a mistake and I should just forget about it. I'm already dealing with nepotism at work and now…," she was poking her fork into the Styrofoam, dotting the inside of the lid in an absent pattern. I knew she'd talk when she was ready. "He wants more…," She pushed her fork in deep enough that it stood on its own. She huffed, "he told me he loves me this morning." She said it as though his confession was throwing a wrench into all her plans.

"Oh, Ros -,"

"No, no," she waved a hand at me, "don't do that." She fell back against her chair, "this wasn't supposed to happen this way." I knew all about her five year plan; it _ended_ with her finding the man she was meant to be with. It definitely didn't _begin_ that way and Rosalie's plans were, well they were something.

"_But I want to see the tigers first!" Alice complained._

"_The tigers are way on the other side, look, I have it all mapped out." Rosalie spread the map of the zoo out over our legs and pushed the top half of the car's seatbelt behind her. In the front seats, Renee said something to Esme that made her laugh. "So, we should get there at ten. We need tickets and then the bathroom for Bella," she looked at me._

"_What? I can't help it." I stuck my tongue out at her and she snapped her teeth, pretending to bite it._

"_Girls," Esme said from the passenger seat._

"_Any-hoo," Alice said loudly._

"_So, ten fifteen – flamingos," she continued, pointing the direction she'd decided we'd all take that day. It was drawn over the map in hot pink marker._

_When she was done, Esme turned in her seat to look. "Hmm," her eyes traced the bright line, "looks like you've got it all figured out."_

I cleared my throat, trying to think of the right thing to say. "If…why did you sleep with him in the first place?"

I watched her think about it, the faintest trace of a smile ghosting her lips. She wanted Emmett to fade into the background no matter how obvious it had become that she had feelings for him, but that little look told me it was all just beginning. I was glad for her and hoped for all of our sakes she'd learn to get out of her own way on this one. She raised one shoulder and then let it drop, fighting to keep her mouth turned down. "I don't know, he's like…he's so happy. And funny," she let her smile grow, but it faded just as quickly. "I never thought he would turn out to be so - you should see him with Abby; he treats her like his daughter." Her gaze seemed far away, she shook her head. "In so many ways he's not right for me at all."

Rosalie's version of Mr. Right had always been my version of Mr. IRS agent. She'd always wanted someone practical and sedate, someone completely together and well off. I thought of Emmett and his easy smile, his loud laugh, and how in so many ways he was the complete opposite of Rose. Potentially, they could make each other crazy. Or just maybe they'd be perfect together. It was the latter that I'd like to think was true.

"But," I knew there was one coming.

She kept her eyes on her Styrofoam connect-the-dots. "But he is, he's completely right for me."

My smile for her was soft and hopeful. "I think you've just solved your problem."

When she looked up, her eyes were glassy again, but she looked happier - if only moderately. "How much do I owe you?"

"This one's on me."

Rosalie ate the rest of our lunch while I debated finally coming out with my own truth. "Ro, Rosalie," I stammered. "As long as we're – there's something I should tell you."

She licked a bit of sauce off her top lip and looked at me.

I wasn't sure where to start; I suppose that depended on how much I wanted to confess about my poor decision making skills. Sometimes I truly couldn't believe I was a full grown woman. I decided to start right at the beginning. "You know how Edward and I don't really get along?"

She nodded.

I breathed in and out. "Well -,"

There was a knock at my door, before I could say "come in," my assistant poked her head in. "Your one o'clock is here."

My teeth clenched, but my expression didn't waver. "Thank you; tell her I'll be just a minute."

"Uh, _him_."

I gave her a tight smile, "_him_."

Rosalie stood after the door shut again. "If she worked for me, she'd be fired by now."

I chuckled, "she's fine."

"So," she paused. "You and Edward?"

I shook my head. "Another time," I attempted a smile, trying to show her I was alright.

She studied me with those cool blue eyes that missed nothing; I could feel the spotlight of her speculation shining in my face. Without another word on her problems or mine, we said goodbye. She gave me a look, the kind some lifelong friends share that runs deeper than anything we could ever actually say to each other.

I nodded. _I love you, too_.

Later on I looked at my appointment calendar. From three to five o'clock, I penciled in the word 'mull' as in, mull it over. Think about it too much; do something.

What was Edward doing right now?

I stared into the space of my empty office. No, I wasn't going to think about that.

So, instead I ran over everything. Hindsight is twenty-twenty after all. Had I really only known him for two weeks? Up until now, it had seemed like so much longer. It felt like we'd known each other for lifetimes, like there was never a period where I didn't know Edward.

But I didn't know him, not really. I had some handwritten anecdotes about his life and a small handful of successful conversations. And I gave myself to him so easily; I raised my arms up and jumped in. For a second, I thought of the pond.

_Go for it_. I was pretty sure I'd ruined my mother's favorite catch phrase.

At four thirty I drove home; the fog had turned everything dove grey and wet. The thick trees my car passed under dropped fat leftover rain drops on my windshield, a reminder to myself that I really should have worn better shoes today, boots or something. I parked close to the porch and did a few awkward hops in my flats over the dirt driveway and wet grass. My front door was unlocked, which I appreciated; I still hadn't mastered the art of using my key on the old and fickle lock.

Inside, Esme was slipping on a pair of gloves; I remembered watching her do these things when I was young. She took such care in her appearance in a way that was so effortless that if you asked her, she might truly not know what you were talking about. Behind her, there was a hole in the wall, wires sticking out like thin fingers. Given my residual fear of being alone in the house, their work on my wiring did not bode well for my anxiety.

We said hello and discussed the progress of the house, or rather she told me and I stood in wonder at how they worked so quickly. The rest of the group came around from various rooms, ready to be finished for the day. Emmett looked at me, smiling in greeting for just a fraction too long; I had a feeling he understood those certain tell-all privileges of best friends. The crew shrugged into their jackets and said goodbye, leaving Carlisle and Esme behind for a more lingering farewell.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Carlisle asked me, holding Esme's coat open for her; she looked at me with that mom look of hers.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just tired," I answered on auto-pilot. Neither of them would believe me, I was sure, though the exhaustion was true.

Esme held my shoulders, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. It said to me, _if you need us, you know where we are. _I nodded, but let them go.

In an effort to think of anything but the man across the lawn, I went from room to room, looking at the remains of their workday. Outside the door to the den, I saw the sticky note – _Catherine Forester. _Edward's notes, I thought to myself. They had become so much a part of the house I hardly noticed them anymore. He had yet to tell me what they meant and in a sudden fit of anger, I debated throwing them all out, but I couldn't. To me, the act felt so much more final than what it was.

I stood there staring at it for a short while, not really trying to figure out what the notes were, not really thinking about anything. I was reluctant to be rid of this delicious blankness; it was the first time all day I hadn't felt overwhelmed.

After a time, something pulled me from it, like when you're sleeping and a sudden noise wakes you up. But I wasn't sure I'd actually heard anything. Automatically, I looked toward the back door. It was closed, as was the screen – which I realized is what it was that startled me. The slap of the screen door on its frame as it closed, but the door was latched shut.

"Hello?" I called out. I felt the fingertips of fear on the back of my neck. It wasn't Edward; I was too near the door, I would have seen him. It was nothing, I tried to convince myself. I was being silly. I thought of Alice, as I always do when something unexplainable happens, and huffed a breath of laughter.

I went to the window, looked outside, trying to pretend that I wasn't really looking for Edward. My eyes went to the newel post, half hoping for a soggy note with ink bleeding down the page, something to tell me what was going on. There was nothing, just the crooked nail sticking out of the wood. I was lonely; in a moment of clarity I thought maybe that feeling had transferred to the house as well. Alice believed that people were basically energy and that we left some of that wherever we went, like fingerprints. I looked at the empty porch again and the rain puddling on the steps.

I couldn't bring myself to make the short trip to the guest house. That situation was so much bigger than just us; there was a child now. I wasn't going to get in the way of that. I could wait, or if it were right, I would step aside. That was the best I could think of for the moment.

"Well," I tried to think of a name for my ghost, or whatever it was. "I guess it's just you and me."

* * *

Author's Note: So, I've been ridiculously overwhelmed by life for the last week'ish, but I'll finally have some blessed free time to write after tomorrow! Anyway, I have another recommendation -

_Ethan Church_ by dryler.  
Summary: After receiving an invitation to write the biography of the severely reclusive author Ethan Church, Bella develops a reluctant obsession with his novels and by extension him. When she accepts his offer, the old, dying man she's presented with and the young, too perfect man she comes across on the nearly empty estate have her convinced she's missing some very important parts of the story.

The writing is descriptive, pained, and very smart. Dryler paints a very beautiful picture, go check it out.


	19. Fifteen: MIA

Author's Note: Hello lovelies, thanks for reading. More at the bottom.

* * *

Fifteen: MIA

The bed was warm; I was warm. It was raining outside and it was Saturday, five days since I'd last seen Edward. No, that's not entirely true. I'd seen him once a couple of days ago, walking with the blonde from the driveway to his front door. The day before that, I'd been there knocking pathetically and hoping to be let in, but he wasn't there. I hadn't thought to check the driveway first. Her car was usually there, a little white compact thing, probably made of plastic. I saw her only once without him, sitting on the porch steps with her baby – I had a hard time thinking the words "Edward's baby." It was sunny and I was outside; she didn't notice. She cooed and sang and had a lovely voice that traveled between the trees and into my yard. I went inside.

I rolled over, tucking the covers under my chin tightly. "Hey mom," I said to the picture on my nightstand. "It's a bit of a mess over here." I reached out and grabbed the frame, bringing it to the bed with me. "I never talked to you enough." There were so many memories in my head of saying "I'm fine," when what I really wanted to say was, "I have no idea what to do."

I pulled the blanket higher and shut my eyes against the grey light from the windows. "I miss you."

My mom almost never cried. During movies sometimes, or when a particular song came on the radio, but almost never about her life. Or at least, not ever in front of me, except for once, but it was by accident.

There was a time, just before the divorce, that I had a bout of insomnia. It wasn't until much later I realized it was probably because I knew it was coming; my parents' paths had only intersected, instead of running along side by side.

_I looked at the bright red numbers of my alarm clock – 4 a.m. Not bad, I thought, the night before it had been three. I faced my window, my night thoughts making very little sense to me, but fascinating nonetheless. The tree outside scraped the glass. If someone wanted to, they could climb up it and jump right inside my room. I squeezed my eyes shut; I needed to sleep._

_I opened one eye, looked at the time – four twenty seven. It was windy, the noise amplified by my tired senses. I threw the blankets off, got out of bed._

_Downstairs was dark. It was different at night, more dangerous. There was always this feeling, leftover from childhood I guess, that something was hiding in the shadows. The creaks in the steps were louder, ominous; I held back the urge to run to the nearest light switch. The kitchen, I decided, maybe I'd make some hot chocolate or something. _

_I felt along the wall, the light coming on suddenly when I hit the switch with my wrist. "Oh," I breathed._

_My mother startled, her fist tightening around a crumpled tissue. She was sitting at the table, her empty hand idly fingering the mail box my father made years ago. _

"_Sorry," we both said at the same time. She smiled, under the lights her face looked prematurely lined; her eyes were red from crying._

_I didn't know what to do, or what I was supposed to do. I stood there dumbly, my own face lining with worry. "What's the matter?"_

_Her fist squeezed tighter. "Your father and I -," she started. I felt my heart clench; this was the part I knew I'd been waiting for. She shook her head, "never mind, I don't know what I'm saying."_

_My heart did not release because I knew she knew exactly what she was saying. I sat down beside her, pulled a clean tissue out of the box, dabbed it under her wet eyes. It was something she always did for me. "It's alright, you know." I said it even though I didn't want to, wasn't sure how much I believed that yet._

_She looked at me in that searching way mother's have sometimes; I'd seen Esme do it to Rosalie. "Remember this?" She tapped the mail box. For a while, after I'd outgrown it, I'd caught Renee and Charlie leaving each other love notes. They said things like "forever" and "always", other things that made me blush in their intimacy._

_I nodded. "You guys used it too."_

_She pulled her hand away from it. "It's going to take a lot more now than a bunch of notes."_

I reached my arm out of my bedspread cave and fumbled for my cell phone, hit the buttons for Rosalie. It rang five times before going to voicemail – "Rosalie Cullen," was all it said. I hung up, even with my best friends, my messages sounded awkward and rambling at best. Alice, I thought, she likes all day slumber parties. Her ring was some song I'd never heard before. She answered, shouting into the phone.

"Uh, hey?" I pulled the phone back a little.

"Hey! What's up?" She sounded…effervescent.

"I wanted you to join me in my winter of discontent, but you sound busy," I couldn't tell what I was hearing in the background. It sounded like a lot of things all at once.

"Oh," her voice fell. "Yeah, I…yeah."

I gave her a drawn out "o..k..,"

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Where are you?" I ignored the implications of her question and listened more closely to her background accompaniment. "Did someone just say 'Bloody Mary'?" That didn't sound half bad.

Her voice faltered, "yeah, I'm at," she gave a pregnant pause where I suppose I was to infer my own conclusions on her whereabouts. "Oh, sorry, I've got to go! See ya later," she hung up.

My new hands-on-hips determination to get out of bed wavered at the confusion caused by that phone call, she did good avoidance. And unfortunately, so did I.

Being that I had no idea how to channel this newfound determination not to be a self pitying, well – loser, I did those mundane morning things that people do. Showered, had a very late breakfast, checked the mail – did not check Edward's driveway, uselessly straightened up things that I still did not consider mine.

In an effort not to go down that path, I slipped on shoes, grabbed my keys, and left. There was too much atmosphere around the property lately. So I did what I always did during my teen years in Forks when I felt that tingling desire to be somewhere else, I drove. Grey road, grey sky with low clouds crying big heavy tears, full gas tank and nowhere to go.

I squeezed my eyes shut at a stop light, got honked at when I kept them closed for too long. I pressed the gas pedal and turned toward town; I could use human contact, even if only minimally.

Downtown was quiet for a Saturday; I parked on the street next to a bookstore and got out, lifting my hood up over my hair. A shop where being quiet was a rule wasn't the best place for socializing, but it was my sanctuary. It was high ceilinged and ancient, the wood floors dulled by millions of footsteps; I stepped through the doorway and exhaled. A girl with Buddy Holly glasses sat behind the counter reading Maugham without even a pause when I came in.

There were no signs indicating which section you might be in, but the layout had never been changed insofar as I could tell and I had it memorized long ago. I skipped past poetry, instead sneaking into a small alcove of classic fiction. I didn't choose anything right away, I could never rush here. Leaning back, head tilted automatically, I looked at the titles. All of them. There was something, like magic I suppose, about being here. There were so many minds in these yellowed pages, different worlds, people, great loves and great tragedies.

In the end, I reached for a small anthology at a bottom corner shelf, took it to the front. The girl didn't say anymore than how much I owed.

Outside again, I kept my head down against the rain that was already dripping off the tip of my nose and soaking through my sweatshirt.

"Hey woman!"

I heard it, but didn't think whoever it was was speaking to me. I reached for my keys in my pocket.

"Swan," the voice said, on the edge of laughter.

I looked up. "Jacob?"

He grinned and opened his arms for me; I smiled, standing on my toes to hug him. I hadn't seen him since before my mother got sick; I thought about what that meant for any conversation we might have.

"I recognized the baby," he nodded behind him, to my car. "Now can we get the hell out of the rain, huh? I'm freaking freezing."

I drove us to a little sandwich place a couple of blocks over. We both hurried down the sidewalk and into the warm space. Inside, Jacob pushed his hood back and shook his hair like a dog.

"Jacob," my eyes widened. "Your hair is gone."

"Oh, yeah," he ran a hand through the inch or two that was left. He shrugged. "Let's eat."

My lips curved up, being with him had always been like this. Easy, fun. But never quite right, it was sort of a shame.

We ordered and sat at a high backed booth near the window. "Hey," he said. I tensed; I knew what was coming. "I heard about your mom." He leaned forward. "I know…it sucks."

I made a noise like a laugh. "Yeah, it does." He knew all too well.

We were quiet until the food came. Jacob took a monstrous bite out of a thick roast beef sandwich and chose that moment to speak again. "Hey, who's Edward?" It came out a little like – _who Eh-wer_?

"What?" I caught the gist of what he was asking, but needed a minute to prepare an answer for that. Who was he? I didn't really know.

"Who's Edward?"

I took a drink from my water glass. "The caretaker, I don't know, why?"

"Curious, your dad mentioned he was living there with you-,"

"He doesn't live with me," I said too fast.

One side of his mouth turned up, "ok then."

I ate stiffly, hoping the topic was finished, but knowing it wasn't. Jacob had known me for much too long; I was practically transparent to him.

"So…?" He began.

"Hmm?"

"Edward?"

"What about him?" I bristled suddenly. "Are you checking up on me?"

"Of course not, cool it Swan." He grabbed my water glass and drank from it. "He's living on that property with you, just making sure he's not Leatherface or something."

I cracked a smile at that, as I recall, Alice had jumped to the same conclusion. I leaned my head on my hand, stared at my sandwich. "I'm sorry, it's just been…weird lately." It was a poor description, but I hadn't tried to wrap my mind around what I'd gotten myself into, so "weird" was apt enough for the time being.

He asked what was so weird and I gave him an abridged version. My somehow distancing relationship with Rose and Alice, wherever they were, renovations on the house, not my house.

"It is your house; she gave it to you."

"She didn't give it to me, she left it for me." To me, there was a big difference.

I tried to lighten things up so I told him about our séance. He thought it was hilarious and asked to be invited to the next one. "Next one?" I raised an eyebrow.

I asked about his own life and what he'd been doing; it was strange, us having to catch each other up. He lived farther away than my father, but really had only ever been as far as a phone call.

"So, Edward?"

I made a face.

"It's not like I'd forgotten."

I told him, well as much as I could without going red in the face. We used to do this in high school. He called me his girl-speak translator and he did it for me as well, though much less often. When I finished, I looked up at him, hoping he had some insight despite my generalities.

"A kid, huh?" He leaned back.

"That's just the thing, I have no idea. So yeah, a kid…maybe."

The look he gave me was a little patronizing. "You know what I'm going to say."

"Yeah."

"Either talk to him or forget about him, it's up to you."

"Are those my only options?"

"They are unless you like Purgatory." Having finished his own food, Jacob took some chips from my plate; I pushed it toward him.

"Isn't he supposed to come to me or something?" I thought of my one half hearted attempt to see him.

"Well, among other things, he might have a kid Bella; the guy's got a lot on his mind."

I tried not to be hurt by the idea that he'd forget me after we'd slept together. But perhaps he had. What would I have done if I were him? It was difficult to tell.

"Do you like him?" He asked.

"I barely know him."

"Doesn't matter, do you like him?"

I picked at my fingernails. "Yeah, I do."

"Well then…,"

A little while later, I dropped Jacob off at his car before heading home. He and I had spent a good portion of the afternoon together; it was nice, having someone see things objectively. I knew he'd never glaze over anything; he was fair and honest and helped me see myself from the outside. I hoped I was even half as good a friend.

He wanted to see the house so I invited him for dinner the next day since my father would be there also. He asked me to make lasagna.

Edward's car was in his driveway; the little white compact was not. This was a good opportunity. My grip on the steering wheel tightened. This was it, either he was going to talk to me or I wasn't sure what. But I had to try.

Outside, it was still pouring so I put my hood up and plodded across the wet ground, up the steps, and stopped at his front door. I fisted both my hands, then brought one up and knocked. I couldn't decide whether or not I wanted him to answer.

After a long moment, I heard the lock turning on the door. It opened swiftly and then there he was; I'd missed him, regardless of anything else. In that half second before he said anything, I knew I still wanted him.

"Bella." He was barefoot in jeans and nothing else, his bath towel hanging off the smooth ball of his shoulder. His hair looked wet.

I don't know why I started with this, "did you just take a shower?" It was almost four in the afternoon, if that's any justification for my moronic question.

He grinned crookedly, "no, I was outside. I was changing when you knocked."

"How long were you outside?" His hair was still dripping.

His gaze dropped for just a second, "I went over to see you. I thought we should talk."

I nodded, "that's…why I'm here." The rain was starting to drip through the fabric of my clothes; I shivered compulsively. I probably looked like a drowned animal.

"Oh," he seemed to read my thoughts. "Here, come in."

I stepped over the threshold, knowing that whatever would happen between us, if there would ever even be an "us", would start here.

* * *

Author's Note: I wanted to give a special thanks to the people over at The Little-Known Ficster for recommending this story and everyone else that takes time out of their day to mention me to others; it really means the world to me :)

Also, I have a flashback scene coming too, hopefully by the end of the weekend.

Happy New Year everyone!


	20. Nine Months Ago

Author's Note: At the bottom :)  


* * *

Nine Months Ago…

Renee and Phil were spending Christmas in Washington; it would more likely rain than snow, but it still felt more like the holidays in that big old house than in their Florida condo. And there was another reason; she had gotten the feeling that Edward was spending the ensuing merriment alone this year. For being a writer of biographies, that boy sure had a hard time relating to people. He hadn't spoken much about it, but she knew he'd lost his parents when he was a teenager and had raised himself alone since then; as for friends, well, she had seen (or rather heard) the kind of company he was keeping lately.

She grabbed up his Christmas present, hefting it into her arms. Phil was out shopping for her, so who knew how long that might take. Phil was many things, but a good gift giver he was not. Her birthday gift this year? Kitchen scissors. Oh there were other things, but really, kitchen scissors.

Renee slipped into her galoshes and ambled over to Edward's door, her breath heavy by the time she got there because of the extra weight. _I really need to take up running again or something_. Renee had always been an avid runner, but had been getting lax about it over the last few months. She felt her age creeping up on her like a bad cold.

With no free hand to knock, she kicked the door twice with the tip of her boot. She meant to check the driveway for his car, but had forgotten. She smiled when he answered. "Merry Christmas! Would you take this please?"

Edward grinned, shaking his head at her. He put his arms out for it, "Merry Christmas Renee." He set it down on an empty card table and she walked in, stomping her boots on his ragged looking rug. He rubbed the back of his head, looking uncomfortable. "I uh, I didn't get you anything."

She flicked her hand at him, a dismissive gesture. "You can owe me," her look was teasing. "Open it."

"It's not Christmas yet."

"I know, but I can't wait." She rolled forward onto the balls of her feet eagerly. She watched him open it; he tried to quell his pleasure, but she saw it anyway. He looked boyish, more like the way he was when she first met him. She wanted to hug him, ruffle his hair.

Renee wasn't sure if he'd like it, but she got him a typewriter. She knew his penchant for writing all of his work by hand and thought this would be a good baby step. She was also aware that he was as technologically inept as she was which was why she didn't spring for a laptop. The boy could barely use his phone.

He smiled one of those genuine happy smiles that warmed Renee from the inside out. Her eyes were bright. "You like it?"

He nodded, "yeah." He pulled away the last of the paper, crumbled it between his hands. "Thanks." He pulled his lower lip into his mouth for a moment. "I mean, you know, really…,"

She sighed heavily and walked over, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He stiffened immediately, but she didn't let go. After a second, he brought an arm up very lightly to the middle of her back. It was probably the best she was going to get, but she'd take it gladly.

Edward was unlike anyone she'd ever met; he'd adapted to his loneliness by shutting down, she imagined. Tossed out in the real world as a teenager and then forgotten by it. She wondered if he even realized there was another way to be.

Renee loosened her grip, fought that desire to tousle his already messy hair.

Instead of letting go, Edward brought his other arm up and around her, pressed tightly. He voice was quiet, but definite. "Thank you."

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks again to all for reading and recommending :)

Also, before you guys start lighting the torches I thought you should know the next chapter is all Bella/Edward and I promise he doesn't suck as bad as it seems sometimes. His character was sort of a writing experiment for me, so thanks for putting up with his behavior.


	21. Sixteen: To Talk of Many Things

Author's Note: At the bottom.

* * *

Sixteen: To Talk of Many Things

"Here," he held out his towel to me and I used it to wipe the water still clinging to my face. "Hang on," he said, and walked out before I could respond. I looked around; there was no place to sit besides the crippled looking folding chair at the card table. This could pose a problem - the floor perhaps? I knew all of this was nothing I should have been thinking about.

Edward returned, holding out a dry t-shirt for me. I took it and couldn't help but glance at the words on the front. Printed on it in an art-imitating-life kind of way was a stanza from The Walrus and The Carpenter.

_The time has come," the Walrus said,_

_To talk of many things:_

"Thanks," I said. "…Um -," he had seen me naked, I reminded myself, but that was under a much different set of circumstances.

His face was blank for a beat. "Oh, sorry," he stepped back and turned around.

I changed out of my soggy sweatshirt and put on the t-shirt, glancing at the other words.

_Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—_

_Of cabbages—and kings—_

_And why the sea is boiling hot—_

_And whether pigs have wings._

I snorted and wondered if he'd grabbed this on purpose.

"What?" He turned before I said so to look at me with open curiosity.

I shook my head. "Nothing." We were quickly entering very discomfited territory, which was exactly where I didn't want to be – not with Edward, but I had no idea how to steer us elsewhere. I felt too many things at the same time.

Deciding to start with what was most pressing, I asked, "the baby?" It was inarticulate and had an edge I identified as anger, but it was as good a place to start as any.

"They left today, Alaska." He shifted from one bare foot to the other; for a second I was distracted by the fact that he hadn't gotten a shirt for himself.

"Are you leaving too?" It seemed like he should be there, close by; I hoped he was that kind of a man. If not, I really didn't know what I was doing here.

"What? For Alaska? I…no,"

I felt something inside me fall.

He rubbed a hand over his face and through his hair. "No, what I mean is…," he looked frustrated, like he was trying to learn a difficult language.

Why was it so difficult for him? I felt my body and mind completely worn through waiting for him to ever talk to me. "What? I can't read your mind, Edward."

"Can we sit down somewhere?"

"I'm fine." I crossed my arms in a show of just how fine I was, "so, why aren't you moving?"

"Bella," he said on an exasperated sigh; he muttered something about things being backward. "Alright, the woman that was here, she's my ex. Things between us, they weren't good. They didn't end well, I mean. She uh…, anyway," he cleared his throat. "She went out on a limb by saying I was the father." He made a face that asked, _get it?_

I nodded once, slowly.

"She shouldn't have said that in front of you."

I shook my head mutely, but still thought back to that day, the way she flicked her hair back over her shoulder when she spoke, the way she smiled at him, that look of familiarity. "So…does that mean you _could_ be?"

"No," he answered very quickly this time. "We found out today…I'm - it's, he's not mine."

I exhaled, "oh." I didn't know what else to say. In my mind, that part was immutable; his fatherhood was already a part of my equation. When I looked up, he was closer.

"That's why I waited to see you, I didn't know yet and I, I didn't think you'd want to see me." He looked as nervous as he sounded. "It was – a bad idea."

"Why wouldn't I want to see you?" I uncrossed my arms, but didn't know what to do with them.

"Because of…," he gestured vaguely toward the front door. "The baby…and Tanya was here and," he ran a hand through his hair again. "I thought you were mad."

"I wasn't really, but I am now." My skin was prickling. "You thought my walking out of here was a better idea? Do you have any idea what that felt like?" I remembered slipping in the mud, my face hot, humiliated while he stood there.

No…my mind worked through it; I could give him that momentary lapse I suppose, her – Tanya, her ambush was effective. I would have been rendered speechless too.

"I was -," he started.

"Forget it," I was getting uncomfortable from standing; it felt too much like I was going to start lecturing him at any moment. And anyway, letting me walk out was bad, but going missing for the rest of the week – that was worse.

He wasn't missing, I reminded myself, he was right here; he just didn't want to see me.

"I wanted to come over, Bella, every day."

"Then why didn't you?" The words came out cutting, accusing.

He raised a shoulder helplessly and I realized I really didn't want him to speak anymore. "I don't have a good reason for you…,"

"Seriously?" My muscles itched to move, to pace, to leave, to walk over there and shake him, to slap him. "Am I supposed to accept that?"

He shook his head, eyes downcast like a repentant schoolboy. "I'm sorry; I thought it would be better if I had information or, or something."

Instead of being endearing, it frustrated me. What could I possibly say to a look like that? I groaned in irritation, "you _suck_ at this."

The side of his mouth quirked up very briefly. "At what?"

"This," I motioned to the space between us. "Talking to another person, I can't have both sides of the conversation." While saying this, I realized that what he was telling me of his reasoning was the truth and not a sweet lie to placate my anger. There was no tease to his voice or mixed messages; Edward was being Edward, that part of him inside that I'd been looking for.

"I'm sorry -,"

I sighed at my revelation. I had hoped, in the way you hope when you're young, that underneath or if I tried hard enough, he would say the perfect thing. This was supposed to be the part where we made everything right and lived happily ever after. "No, you don't need to…,"

He stepped closer, wrapped a tentative hand around my wrist. "No, I mean, I'm sorry for this week."

There wasn't enough air now with him standing right here in front of me; I didn't say anything.

"I should have come over," his other hand came up to my hip; I didn't fight him. "I should have told you what was going on; I never meant to abandon you." He said the last part with disdain directed solely at himself; I think he wanted to be able to say exactly the right thing too.

I tried to consider all this, but his closeness precluded most thought.

"Why don't we sit down or something?" He nodded toward the kitchen, where I remembered there was a table and chairs. His fingers on my wrist smoothed upward, around my elbow; his body felt nearer still.

This could all be over right now, I realized. I could drop every worry; forget about it like so much garbage. We could go to the kitchen, sit and talk about things outside of the last week and then we'd kiss and eventually I'd let myself go to bed with him again. It would be good, better than good really. Easy, I'd fall asleep in his arms and wake up in them too. We'd sleep late, pillow talk, rain sounds, grey light and warm blankets, happy ending.

"No," the sentences left my mouth as I thought them into existence, "that's…that's not good enough, Edward." Halfway unwilling, I pulled back. "What about the next time something happens? Or what if nothing happens? I still don't know anything about you, not enough to start something, anyway…or -," it occurred to me, what if I didn't know anything about him because he wasn't planning on staying around long enough for me to need the information? I was quiet; he was quiet.

I heard a clock ticking somewhere.

"Bella," his voice startled me out of the depths that my mind was sinking. "It's not like that."

I wondered if I'd spoken out loud, but couldn't remember for sure.

"I…I like you -,"

_Thanks_, my thoughts veered toward sarcasm.

"- A lot, it's just that you're right…I suck at this," he added with little humor. His look was imploring, _understand_.

But I needed words. "Why? Is it everyone? Or just me?"

"It isn't just you." Hand through the hair, he stepped back far enough that I couldn't touch him even if I reached. "I'm just – this is how I am."

"But…," I tried to stretch something in my mind, the way I did at work. I tried to understand, but it was hard, I was too close to him.

"Bella, I don't know how to be anything else, alright?" His voice had an edge to it, like he was also telling me to leave it alone.

"You don't have to shut every -,"

"I'm not a project for you; I don't need you to counsel me."

I felt an impasse coming and I fought against it, something, some long dormant instinct telling me it was worth it. "I'm not going to hurt you, Edward. But…it can't stay this way, because this, it hurts me."

He didn't say anything for a time and I thought maybe he didn't know what to say. But I was starting to see it, I think. Being alone so much, other things I didn't know about, not thinking about others – not because of carelessness, but because there was no one.

I could see the way his face changed when he finally relented to me. I thought right then that maybe he decided I was worth it to him the way he was worth it to me.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I'd like to say that after that, the floodgates opened. We had a heart to heart and he shared the deep tragedy of his life, the moment the doors closed around him. I'd learn about his life and let him learn about mine. He'd say things like, "_I've never told anyone that before_." We'd make promises to each other and I'd confess that during all this, the feeling that I loved him hadn't gone away.

But it wasn't like that, not exactly. We talked, we talked a lot, long enough that after a while he turned a lamp on. He said there was no big reason, no Big Secret that would explain everything.

But he did tell me about his parents.

"It wasn't because of them; I guess…it was trying to live after they were gone."

I thought of my mother, of the Before and After time demarcation.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sometimes it was harder, sometimes it was my patience pulling into shreds like tissue. He pushed at me, but I wasn't giving up on the glimmer of light I saw there.

"I don't know why we're doing this, Bella. It's not…I'm not…,"

"Yes you are."

"I didn't want this to happen."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When my legs got stiff and I'm sure his were too, I sat down on the floor, my back against the wall to the kitchen. He sat too, some joint popping in the process. His back rested against the bookshelf; I thought that it must be uncomfortable. Still, he was trying.

"Because," he brought his hand to the back of his neck. "Because sex is easy, but I liked you, and…I didn't know where to start."

"So you thought," my face flushed, "you thought the…pond was a good way to say I _like_ you?"

He shrugged.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I yawned, feeling my stomach grumble in complaint. The evening had stretched into night and I hadn't expected things to last so long. We'd both been quiet for a while and during this time, I remembered something.

"You didn't want this?" When he said it the first time, I hadn't minded. When he said it the second time, I felt its sting. I didn't understand why, if he wanted none of this, he pursued me in the first place.

"No, but I…couldn't stay away from you."

"But why didn't you want to like me?"

He straightened his legs in front of him. "Not yet."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He told me about Tanya, how she'd coaxed him into some sense of normalcy, but how it had all been a lie. She cheated, but he said there was no resentment there. "I couldn't be enough for her, I guess."

"Whatever you did doesn't make her cheating on you acceptable."

"I still left the relationship long before she did."

I thought about his parents, how they passed away and he was alone, and then about Tanya – his would be partner, who betrayed him and left. No matter the situation, the summation always ended up the same for him.

At some point, we both knew we'd said everything we were going to for the night. I had some insight and was glad and grateful for it, but the worry was still just as present as it was in the beginning. Sure, he'd tried for me tonight, but what about tomorrow? And the day after that?

I'd rather be alone that be hurt by his push and pull again and again.

In these last moments as our conversation petered off, I knew what I wanted. But I didn't know if what I wanted and what was best was necessarily the same thing. I doubted the answer would come to me sitting there on the floor of Edward's living room, but I had to say something; I was very afraid my window was closing.

"Edward," I grasped for the words; it was like trying to hold onto snowflakes. They melted and dripped and ran between my fingers until I couldn't make out what they were in the first place. I didn't know what to say.

"Hmm?"

"What now?"

He shifted against the bookcase. "I don't know."

I nodded; it was the answer I'd been expecting. "I should get going," I said it before I was quite ready. I stretched a little, my muscles aching from the stillness. As much as I feared what would happen if I were to leave, more I feared what would happen to me if I settled on waiting for him indefinitely. So it wasn't my storybook outcome, it would be alright. I knew at the very least that I'd be able to call him a friend and mean it. And I hoped he understood that he had someone in his corner.

As for the love? Well, I hoped time would take care of that.

I glanced at him, watching for an indication that he was going to say goodbye. His face looked different, frantic almost, like there was something else.

"Bella, I -," his lips pressed together; it was his last pause before everything came pouring out. "I want to be with you."

He said it so fast I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly.

"I mean – officially, or with whatever label you want to put on it. I just want to be in your life and…just don't go, alright? Or, if you just want me to be your caretaker, that's fine, but just, just don't go and shut me out." He shifted up to his knees. "I know I did that to you and I shouldn't even ask it, but…_shit_," he muttered to himself.

"Ok," he started again. "I'm sorry I hurt you, more than sorry, but I don't know what that word is. And if you want to leave I wouldn't blame you, but you need to know that – that I don't want you to go, ever. Because with you, when I'm with you I want to try…shit, that sounds cheesy as hell, but it's true. And I just wanted you to know that. That part's never going to change, so, yeah…," he looked at me, his expression half defeated already.

Something squeezed around my heart and I thought again about love and time. "Edward," I felt a line form between my eyebrows. "You don't even know me."

"I know enough," he kept his eyes on me. "I know what you look like when you sleep, and that you like owning things with a story like I do. I know you use all the hot water when you shower and that you can cook, and that you help people for a living." He was still on his knees and I wanted to tell him to get up or something, but didn't. "I know that I hurt you, but that some part of you wants to try with me or you wouldn't be here right now."

I was very quiet and very still and by the look in his eyes I knew we'd never be merely friends. Even if we tried.

So all I had was right now, did I want all of him or none of him? Was I going to risk myself this way? I didn't want only right now, I wanted more time to think. I was too afraid of all the outcomes, even the good ones.

"I," I felt choked by my words. "I need to get going." _Coward_, my own mind sneered at me.

Edward didn't say anything, but he did finally stand up. Very slowly, like he was waiting for me to change my mind, he went to open the door for me.

I pulled my sweatshirt on and lifted the hood; it was dry again. I stopped in the doorway, "I'm sorry, I just need…," I wasn't sure, time?

He nodded. "I can wait."

We said goodnight and I walked through the trees back to the house. Inside, I got some water and when I set the glass down, it echoed.

I saw that it was barely midnight when I got to my bedroom; I was surprised at the early hour. It had felt like we'd talked all night. I pulled off my sweatshirt and slid out of my jeans, leaving them on the floor. Edward's t-shirt, I was still wearing it; it smelled like his skin and laundry soap. I pulled that off too, I didn't want to feel him so near to me. Like a child, I got all the way under the covers.

_I can wait._

I turned from my side onto my stomach.

…_when I'm with you I want to try_

I kicked the covers down a bit so I could breath. _Fall asleep_.

_I'm sorry I hurt you, more than sorry…_

_That's right, you hurt me._ I thought it in no particular direction.

_I just want to be in your life…_

I rolled onto my back, staring upward.

He tried tonight, it was awkward and difficult and not entirely complete, but he really tried tonight.

I covered my eyes with my hand, still trying to hide.

Edward did all of that for _me_; he would have kept going if I'd wanted to. I was the one that got scared and left, not him.

I let my hand fall from my face to the pillow.

I was still looking for my storybook ending, I realized. I ran because Edward didn't say everything exactly the way I wanted him to say it. He was flawed and I was flawed and he hurt me, but he wanted better.

Hadn't I said he was worth it? Didn't that include all of him?

It wasn't perfect or logical or maybe smart either, but I wanted to try. And just maybe, with each other, we could find something that neither of us had found alone. I had no answer, but it was alright.

So I got up, it was almost one; I didn't need as much time as I thought. I put his shirt back on, yanked the jeans up my legs, my sweatshirt was inexplicably inside out so I didn't bother with it. I jogged down the stairs, catching myself on the railing more than once. Lucky for me, it had been fixed. My bare feet slipped into my rain boots and I ran outside.

The rain had stopped, but it was cold, jarringly so. I picked up the pace, my hands in front of me to ward off tree branches; I'd forgotten how dark it got out here.

Edward's porch light was off, as were all the others. It occurred to me that I didn't bring my key and that he was probably asleep. He would understand, I hoped, if I woke him up. But still, I tried the knob before I started knocking.

Unlocked. I pushed the door open; it didn't creak the way mine did. It was pitch black and silent inside, but there was no way I was waiting until morning. I left my boots just inside the door and padded straight back to his bedroom. He slept with the door open. I could just barely make out the shadow of him now that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness. The blankets were pooled around his waist and I wondered how he could sleep with the chill in the air.

I crept closer, going around to the side I'd slept on the last and only time I'd slept here. I noticed Edward was on one side and not the middle.

Waking him up seemed logical, but all I wanted to do was climb into bed. His lips were pushed out ever so slightly, his hair rumpled and his body relaxed. I put a knee up onto the mattress, reached out, brushed my hand across his skin.

He inhaled sharply, his defenses going up as quickly as his eyes opened.

"Sorry!" I stage whispered. He only looked at me, but his expression softened. "I just, I wanted to…," I swallowed. "I don't need to think about it anymore," I finished inanely.

He leaned up on his elbow. "Bella, it's ok if you don't want anything. I shouldn't have put all that on you and -,"

I covered his mouth with my hand. "I want to be with you too." I put my hand down. "I don't want to talk anymore."

He nodded and lifted the blankets, inviting me under. I worried my lower lip while debating my self control, but ultimately decided I'd done enough thinking for one day. My jeans came down my legs and I knew he was watching, but I also knew he wouldn't try anything with me yet. The time had come, all right, but not for that.

I crawled into bed and he lowered the covers over us; he was very warm. He curved around me and we fit, his arm around my middle, my back against his chest. I ran my nails back and forth over his wrist and he sighed into my hair. He readjusted after a second until I felt his mouth skim my neck; he pressed his lips to me once. I closed my eyes.

We both stilled, content without a perfect resolution. In the morning there would still be things there, things to sort out.

What was here right now? Us, and for me, that was better.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks many times for reading, it pretty much makes my day.

So, I'm going to post a short multi-chapter story in the coming days (I'm editing it right now); it's an idea that I've had in my head for a really long time and I just couldn't keep locked up anymore. I mention it because in it Edward is the bad guy; it's from his point of view and way more disturbing than anything I've posted so far (no rape, nothing that crosses that kind of line, of course). It's called "The Cherished One" and should be up within the next couple of days, with any luck.

There's an excerpt from it posted on my homepage; it helps keep me motivated to write :).


	22. Seventeen: Dinner, With Yelling

Author's Note: At the bottom.

* * *

Seventeen: Dinner…With Yelling

"She slept in here – I changed the sheets already," he added. It had started raining again sometime during the night. At the moment, I was fairly certain it was not anywhere near dawn; we'd slept and slept well, but not long.

How I'd become so attached to Edward, I couldn't say – some accident of fate maybe, but he seemed to have become equally as attached to me, despite his week long absence. And he knew I was afraid of getting hurt and I knew he was trying to set some things aside for me and that's as far as we'd gotten. "So…," I started, "where -,"

"On an air mattress in the living room."

It was still dark outside when we fell asleep again.

*~*~*~*

The covers were over our heads, they were like that when we woke up a second time; Edward called it hibernation.

"Alice got it for me as a joke," I said, referring to my Shakespeare t-shirt. "But I love it; I wear office clothes every day so it's a nice thing to come home to." I felt his hand up under my shirt; it rested on my lower back, but made no movements.

"Jasper got me the Byron one when I first got published." He was quiet for a beat, "I think he's dating Alice. I haven't seen him since your party."

"They are, I haven't really seen her much either…," I thought of my recent phone call and wondered if they were having their own hibernation.

I'm not sure which of us fell asleep first, but I doubt the other minded.

*~*~*~*

"Um…blood."

"That's pretty common," he said about my one big phobia. "You know," he brought his head down to my shoulder so I couldn't see his face, "when I first moved here I thought your house was haunted."

I smiled, remembering our mutual promise not to laugh at each other. "That's ok, I thought so too." I didn't want to admit that sometimes I still thought so.

"The séance?"

"No, that wasn't my idea." I played with his hair and he hummed and I almost fell asleep again. "Hey."

"Hmm?"

"You didn't tell me your big phobia."

His voice was muffled, "maybe I don't want to tell you."

I tugged on his hair, but I'm pretty sure he liked it. "I told you mine, that was the deal."

"Well…when I was a kid I saw that movie It, remember that one?"

I nodded and grinned.

"Don't laugh, it's not like I didn't get over it." He felt me bouncing in only slightly contained laughter. "You're not cool." He started to pull away, but I kept my arms around him so that when he turned to his back, I was lying on his chest. We fell asleep that way for the rest of the night.

*~*~*~*

By the afternoon, it had turned into one of those perfect picturesque days where the sky is clear, the light is golden, and everything is greener because of the rain the night before. Or it was my attitude, or it was both.

Edward and I had spent most of the day indoors, but my father and Jacob were coming over at five and I wanted to serve dinner on the back porch to take advantage of the warm weather.

"Who's Jacob?"

"A friend, we kind of grew up together," I slipped my feet back into my rain boots.

"Old boyfriend?" His voice was too high and his appearance was too casual and for the first time in my life I was pretty sure I was seeing what jealousy looked like.

I tried very hard to tread lightly, "we went on a few dates, but that was years ago; we were better as friends."

He nodded and I reminded him that my dad would be there as well and that he was welcome to come over. "Unless that's too…boyfriend-y…or something, I don't know," I mumbled.

"Boyfriend-y?" His amusement caused my color to heighten noticeably.

"Never mind, you're invited though – if you want, or not, no big deal." _Fudge_. I had never in my life been such a poor communicator; words, talking, listening and understanding – that was what I did for a living. This new uncertainty, this - I don't know what'll happen to us, was throwing me completely off balance.

Edward didn't seem to notice my displacement, "five?" He asked, coming close enough to wrap his arms around my waist. He was giving me that look that he was so good at that made me forget any concern I'd ever had. His eyes darted from mine to my lips once before a corner of his mouth lifted. "Five?"

I regained a few of my faculties, "what?" I watch his grin widen with the knowledge of the purely carnal power he still had over me. "Oh, five, yeah."

We said goodbye for the time being and he didn't kiss me and I didn't try either though it became all I was thinking about. This wouldn't be the first, but I was afraid that I was endowing it with much more meaning that I should have been. And even though I was aware, it didn't necessarily imply I could turn off that thought surplus.

That's what I was thinking about when I noticed the car in my driveway, Rosalie's car. She stepped out with Emmett and they both noticed me right away. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking a little smug. She called out, "doing the walk of shame at three in the afternoon?" Emmett laughed and casually covered his mouth with one hand.

They came to meet me at the back door. "Never mind, you. Hi, Emmett." He smiled at me, looking very happy and very amused.

"Any séances coming up?" He asked.

I held the door open for them. "No, but there will be food later if you guys want to stick around."

"Yeah," Emmett answered for the both of them.

We stopped in the kitchen. "Uh, Jake's gonna be here with my dad," I added to Rose, trying to remain placid.

She made a noise, "I don't know if we can stay. We were just here to say hi," she gave me a quick warning look, but Emmett had already picked up on the tension.

"Who's Jake?" He looked between us.

"No one, just an old friend of Bella's," Rose answered.

Jacob and Rosalie's relationship could be described as barely civil at best. It hadn't always been that way; in the beginning they challenged each other and though they fought constantly, I think they got a rise from it. So, moving forward, on one fateful night while we were all back home from college for the holidays, Jacob and Rosalie slept together. It was expressed to me in too intimate detail by the both of them as a one time thing and a mistake, no matter how great they both thought it was. And that was that, we all went back to school a couple of weeks later. But since then, their relationship had been strained. That challenge they presented to each other was still there, but now it seemed to be fueled by animosity rather than sexual attraction.

"_It was like a bad porno, one minute we were fighting and the next -,"_

_I held my hand up quickly to stop her. "I already heard the details from Jacob."_

_She leaned back against my headboard and grabbed her soda from the nightstand. "You did? What'd he say?"_

_I shoved a handful of chips in my mouth to give myself time to think. "Uh…you know…basically the same thing you did." Plus many details about my best friend that I had no desire to hear again. _

"_Oh c'mon," she pulled the chip bag closer, "you've got to give me something."_

_I looked at her, my mind working. "Do you like him?"_

_She huffed, but didn't say anything. "Of course not."_

Rose tried to play it off, but Alice and I knew that after her encounter with Jake, her feelings changed. When he made no move to see her again, those feelings turned sour. Though she obviously felt no attraction to him anymore, I knew the fact that _he'd_ rejected _her_ offended Rosalie more than she'd led on.

"Oh, well, we have nowhere else to be," Emmett looked at Rose in question, who nodded in surrender.

I glanced at her, _sorry. _I frowned, wishing I hadn't said anything about dinner in the first place.

She shrugged, "hey, do you have any wine?"

I reached for the glasses. "Coming right up."

Charlie and Jacob arrived together; they brought red wine (Jake's idea) to go with the food, not that we needed any more alcohol added to this evening. Charlie was pleasantly surprised to see Rose and even happier to have Emmett around for the male camaraderie. Jacob greeted Rose with a small nod before joining the other men outside.

"You guys can take off early, if you want," I said by way of another apology.

She waved me off, her hand loose due to a second glass of merlot. "It's fine, that was years ago; we're grown ups. And, you know, Emmett's here," she sprinkled some seasoning onto slices of French bread while I turned on the oven. "So that's nice." We moved around each other deftly, a skill honed as roommates in college; when she paused, I handed her a baking pan and a sheet of foil. "Thanks, darling," she said.

"Welcome, dear." I wiped my hands on a rag, "so…Emmett?"

Rose smiled automatically and raised her shoulders in an innocent shrug. "I went over there the other day and - things have sort of…worked out." She tried to keep her expression serene, but was unsuccessful. It brought to mind that she still did not know about my – whatever we were calling it – relationship with Edward.

I opened my mouth, "uh, so I have something I should tell you." I was minutely less nervous to tell her than Alice, who had a more difficult time keeping her opinion to herself. Rose was more the type to give you The Look, which conveyed everything she didn't feel the need to say. "It's very new and kind of confusing, but I've started -,"

"Hey Swan!" A voice called out from the back porch. "Your _friend_ is here." I could hear his not at all contained amusement, followed by the slap of the screen door and Edward's footsteps.

"Bella," his gaze flickered between me and Rose and he cleared his throat. "I brought wine."

Rosalie chuckled, "you'd think we drink a lot or something," she motioned toward the open bottle we were currently sampling and the closed one on the counter from Jacob.

The three of us worked in the kitchen, Rose and I finishing dinner while Edward kept our glasses topped off; it was difficult to say how much we'd imbibed by the time the lasagna was done. Jake came in at one point and snatched two bottles, claiming the need to catch up; I hoped he remembered that either he or my father needed to be sober enough to drive back to Forks.

We carried out a salad, garlic bread, and the lasagna after a short while. The sun was just dipping behind the trees, the warmth lingering and lightening everyone's mood. Rose sat between Edward and Emmett, far away from Jacob who sat next to my father. I slipped in by Edward, who touched my hand under the table.

Things were being passed around when we all heard a car pull up and stop in the driveway. Charlie stood first to investigate, walking around the side of house with wary friendliness. He called out a hello and was responded to by a high pitch voice I recognized immediately.

"Charlie!"

My dad made a noise like being hit in the stomach, only happier and much more accommodating.

He ambled back after a minute, Alice holding his arm and Jasper's hand. "Hi guys," she was all nerves and smiles and I knew she was here for a definite reason; I just wasn't sure what it was yet. "Oh," her eyes landed on Jacob and Edward; she cleared her throat. "Nice to – see you again," she said to them both.

We made space at the table and ate and drank into the evening; I stole glances at Alice, asking questions in our silent language. _Are you alright?_

_Yeah, tell you later._

I glanced at Jasper and Alice let a small grin show; her gaze moved to Rosalie and she nodded in quiet approval.

There was no dessert except the wine, so after the meal was gone we each had a final glass, the table breaking up into smaller conversations. Jacob leaned forward on his elbows, a conspiratorial grin on his face; I prayed he wouldn't say anything. "So, uh, I take it things worked out ok?" Admittedly, he was trying to talk softly, but Alice was right next to him and heard anyway.

At once, Alice and Edward looked at me.

"What things?" "You talked to him about us?"

They spoke at the same time.

I looked at them both. "I -," the rest of the table hushed, leaving the spotlight solely on me. This was it, I thought, I was going to stand by my decision. If they didn't like it, well, that was just…too bad, or something. I started again, "I've – Edward and I,"

"We're dating," he finished, raising an arm to rest on the back of my chair.

I looked at him, hopeful that he was giving what we were starting a name. "We are?"

"Wait a second," Alice raised her hands up as if she were directing traffic. "I thought we didn't like him?"

"I never said that," Rosalie chimed in, taking a sip from her glass.

"I have no problem with him," Emmett frowned.

I looked at my dad, my face crimson; he just watched us go back and forth like a tennis match. "We didn't start off well," Edward squeezed my shoulder, "but we're getting there."

"Just like that?" She didn't look convinced.

"Alice," Rose warned.

"Look," Jasper cut in, he was very quiet, so when he spoke, we listened. "I've known Edward for a long time; he doesn't uh, always give the best first impression -,"

"Thanks."

"No problem," he leaned back, talking quietly to Alice.

Her feathers unruffled and she looked at me. "I just worry, this is…a surprise."

"Maybe it would have been less of one if you'd been around lately," Rose said. Emmett took her wine glass away.

I glanced in her direction. "But…I didn't tell you anything either."

"It doesn't take a genius," she answered.

Jacob piped up. "You told me and you didn't tell either of them?"

"You went to _him_ first?" Rose jutted a thumb in Jake's direction, but her attention span was short and soon she was looking at Alice. "Wait, where have you been, anyway?"

Alice grasped Jasper's hand tightly and stood up. She looked to be summoning courage and it gave me a suspicious feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Well, that's what we came here to tell you, Jasper and I -,"

Somebody at the table mumbled an "oh my God."

"- have gotten married."

"_What?!"_ Rose stood and Emmett started laughing.

After that, the table erupted.

I wanted to say things like – _didn't you just meet a couple of weeks ago?_ Or, _and you didn't tell us beforehand?_ But, similar questions could be asked about me and Edward, though we didn't get married.

Instead, I rested my head on my hand, rubbing my forehead with my fingertips; Edward leaned toward me, "kind of takes the pressure off us, doesn't it."

The yelling was impossible not to listen to, Rosalie asking questions rapid-fire, Alice defensive, but answering, Emmett's boisterous voice asking Rose to sit down, Jasper doing the same to Alice albeit with much less enthusiasm, and Jake, arms crossed, probably happy that he lived a few hours away. I heard the words "Vegas" and "we just knew." I had one of those light bulb moments where I realized that's where Alice was when I talked to her the day before.

At one point, they brought me in. "She didn't say anything about seeing Edward," Alice gestured toward me.

"That's not the same as getting married to someone you barely know," Rose countered.

"He's a good guy," Edward defended.

"Who asked you?"

"Hey," I looked in her direction.

A hand came down loudly on the table, hard enough to shake the glasses. "Enough!" Charlie stood up; in the chaos, we'd forgotten he was there. He looked at both Alice and Rosalie, "sit down, both of you."

Abruptly, they sat.

"You're all acting like children." His gaze spanned the seven of us and we shrank back like disobedient kids. "Ok you," he looked at Jacob. "Don't stir the pot."

"I wasn't -," Jake started.

"I don't want to hear it."

He looked at Emmett next, "you, cut her off, she's had enough. And Rosalie, don't interrogate Alice. She knew what she was doing, right?" He looked at Alice, who nodded.

"As for you two," he continued, looking at Jasper. "I don't remember your name."

"Jasper."

"Ok, Jasper, both of you, your actions may have been – stupid," he held a hand up before they could protest. "But I did the same thing at your age."

I thought of Renee and Charlie's wedding photo, ecstatic, very young, with no idea what was ahead of them.

He kept talking to Jasper, "so I'm only gonna say this once – take care of Alice, or I'll come find you." Charlie stared at him for an extra moment to make sure his point was taken.

Jake muttered something to the effect of, "he carries a gun."

Charlie sighed and looked at me; I steeled myself for a reprimand. "You like this guy?"

I nodded.

He looked at Edward, "and you?"

"Very much."

"Then you get the same warning, except, if you hurt my daughter – I'll kill you."

Edward swallowed, but nodded in understanding.

There was a moment of quiet where we all stared; it was the most in my life I'd ever heard my father speak in one sitting. He sat back in his chair, obviously satisfied that he'd brought the table to order. I was…kind of proud.

Rose spoke up first, "would you kill Emmett too?"

He skimmed his eyes over the bear of a man, who for his part, was keeping very still. "He's pretty big…I might just have to shoot him." I knew he was kidding despite his flat tone, but Emmett didn't. He sat, vaguely frowning, while the rest of the table relaxed into laughter.

"Hey," Charlie said some time later, "get Rosalie some water."

Emmett jumped up, "yes, sir."

Once the temperature dropped enough that it was too cold to sit outside, we decided to call it a night. We carried everything into the kitchen and then said our goodbyes in the entryway.

"Never a dull moment," Emmett said, giving me a quick hug. "Your dad won't really try and shoot me, right?" He said before pulling back, his voice half joking, half completely serious.

I shook my head quickly.

Rose and Alice hugged, the spat over though not entirely forgotten.

They hugged me, and Alice passed a warning on to Edward. "I'll help Charlie bury the body, Masen."

Jacob tried to put his arms around me, which was difficult because Edward wouldn't let go. "Later Swan, don't be a stranger."

Charlie was the last one out the door; he shook Edward's hand and tried to get away with a pat on my shoulder, but I wrapped my arms around his shoulders quickly. "Maybe next week…just you and me for dinner, ok?" He asked.

I chuckled and agreed whole heartedly.

When they all left, I leaned back against the front door with a long exhale. Edward came up and put his fingers in my belt loops, the motion ever so slightly tugging my hips toward him. "That was…," he started.

I nodded.

"Jasper got married…,"

"To Alice…,"

His hands traveled upward, under the hem of my t-shirt. The current I always felt when he touched me was still there, stronger now that I was letting myself feel it. I kept still, unwilling for my movement to be the reason he pulled back. But after a moment, he did anyway. "I'll help you clean up," he voiced it as a question.

Very reluctantly, I pushed off the door and led him to the kitchen. We'd gone from sixty to zero, but I tried not to let it bother my libido. When he kissed me again, touched me again in that way, it would be better because it would mean more; we'd gone way too fast in the beginning. So I handed him an empty glass to rinse out, convincing myself – I wanted to wait this time. His fingers brushed mine during the exchange. Alright, I didn't want to, I wanted him – now – just as badly as before, but I would wait, for him and for us. I could wait, I was almost positive.

* * *

Author's Note: Lots of thank you's to people that go out of their way to rec' this story - WriteOnTime and Lady Zoe, the people at Little-Known Ficster, and anyone else I missed! Also, a big thanks to the new reviewers (and all reviewers in general), you guys are so insightful and funny, I love reading what you have to say.

So, because someone asked (and I just figured it out today), there are going to be four more chapters plus an epilogue and three flashbacks in between before this story is finished (all subject to change). The next update is a flashback, should be up later tonight or tomorrow.

I feel like I'm forgetting something.....oh well.


	23. Six Months Ago

Six Months Ago…

Phil held Renee's hand, not letting go even to drive. "That's why I have two hands." He'd said, but his attempt at lightness fell flat.

Renee watched the palm trees and the sand washed buildings as they drove by, on the sidewalk a girl was trying to walk her behemoth of a dog.

_Aggressive chemotherapy_, they'd said. She didn't understand most of the rhetoric and believed for a while that they'd mixed her file with someone else's; she was Renee for Christ's sake. This didn't happen to Renee Dwyer.

_Stage four_, her doctor's face had tightened at that, betraying his professionalism for a split second. _Metastatic. _She needed a computer, or a trip to the library; she needed to look these things up because no one was explaining them right. There had to be some mistake or maybe another doctor she could talk to. She hadn't even felt that sick; she didn't even want to see the doctor in the first place.

_Rapidly spreading. _Renee put an arm over her middle, cursing her own body for turning against her.

_Maybe. _Renee's vision went blurry and she realized she was crying; Phil squeezed her hand. Her entire life hung on a maybe.

_Low recovery rate_.

Her cell phone rang in her purse when they walked inside; Phil went into the living room to give her some privacy. She dumped her things on the kitchen table, pulled the phone from the mess and answered.

"Edward, hi," she cleared her throat and wiped at her eyes as if he could see her. He rarely called, but she had a feeling she knew what this was about.

"So," he started uncomfortably. "The Christmas present you wanted…,"

Renee smiled despite herself; when she said he owed her a gift, she'd meant it. Before she and Phil went back to Florida, she decided that what she really wanted was to read the book Edward was working on, the first one of his that wasn't a biography. She told him to think about it and that she wouldn't forget.

"It's not finished or anything…not even close."

"That doesn't matter; I still want to read it."

"It's pretty rough and not uh…,"

Renee grew impatient; she didn't have the time anymore. She wiped at her eyes again. "Are you going to let me read it?"

"Yeah…yes, if you're sure you still want to."

Her mood warmed, "of course I do." This was something she'd been waiting for, not the manuscript, but the final tumbling down of the wall. She listened as he said something about mailing it out to her and then asked if she was planning on coming out to the house later that spring. She kept her voice light, "I don't know, maybe."

He said alright and that he had to get going.

Renee covered her face with her free hand, holding the pieces that were left of herself together. She swallowed hard, "ok…I love you, kiddo."

* * *

Author's Note: Hi everyone, I just want to clarify that Edward doesn't know anything about Renee being sick at this point.


	24. Eighteen: Pillowcase Veils

Author's Note: **Important!** And at the bottom.

* * *

Eighteen: Pillowcase Veils and Mice in the Attic

"_You're what?" I asked into the phone._

"_I'm getting married!" Renee was ecstatic; I, on the other hand, was not._

"_But -," I sputtered. "But…," my parents' marriage wasn't even cold yet._

"_Bella," she sighed at me. "Honey, let me tell you something. One day you're going to meet a guy and you'll just know, ok? Logic doesn't play as big a factor as you think it does," she paused, gathering her thoughts while I tried to make sense of what she was saying. "It's like…it chooses you, not the other way around."_

"_Yeah," I said, "right."_

"A slumber party?" I watched Alice nod at me from the other side of my desk.

"We've slept there a couple times since you moved in and anyway," she took a drink from her water bottle, "it's not really a party so much as it is a vital exchange of information."

I picked up my fork and thought about it. We'd all felt guilty about withholding things from each other over the last few weeks, well except for Rosalie, who rarely felt very bad about anything. Alice suggested sleeping over as a way to re-connect, but it was the part about questioning looks and the divulgence of everything I've done with Edward that gave me pause. I looked at her big eyes and was reminded that we'd once promised to tell each other everything and I knew she felt worse about her impromptu marriage than I did about keeping secret my relationship with Edward. "Ok, but maybe less alcohol this time."

"Deal, I'll bring food."

*~*~*~*

I let my, say, frugality ease up over the course of that week and had finally purchased furniture for the house. Two love seats actually, for the den. They were to be delivered the following Monday which meant the sleep part of our sleepover would again be relegated to the hardwood floors.

I pulled up to the big house; Edward's car was in the driveway, shaded by changing leaves. When had it become fall? A few rested on the trunk, bright orange against the dull silver of his car. I had this childish desire to sweep them all up into a pile, you know, the type you make right before you jump in? But there weren't enough on the ground yet.

Right about then as I was sitting in my car, the sun came out and the light blazed life into the property. It really was beautiful, warm and calm and gold, orange, green, even the peeling paint of the house looked new. This was how my mother saw it, I imagined. Not flawed or a burden or too much to handle, but perfectly imperfect. It seemed to say, _Welcome Home_. I got out of the car, eager for something.

And then I slid my key into the lock and it got stuck. I tried the trick I'd figured out a couple of weeks prior, the one where the stars align, you stand on one foot, jiggle the key just so – and like magic, the door opens. When that didn't work, I made to pull the key out to start over, maybe I'd angered the house by thinking it pretty. Maybe it was a boy house. But the key wouldn't push or pull in any direction.

And then a knock from the other side, three solid raps. I jumped back.

"Bella?" Came the muffled voice from the other side. My ghost?

"Uh, yeah?" How did one communicate with someone from beyond the grave? I wished for Alice.

"Give me a second, I'll let you in."

"Edward?"

Quiet laughter, "who else would it be?" After another second, the door swung open; Edward smiled at me, looking proud. "Ta da," he sang.

I stepped inside and into his arms, which wrapped me up. He smelled good. "What kind of cologne do you use?" I mumbled the question into his chest, feeling the words vibrate against us both.

"I don't use any, I mean, I have some, but I don't ever wear it," his breath was in my hair as he spoke and it felt good to come home like this and have him here. Broken lock aside. He pulled back enough to look at me and that searching expression came back, the one I'd seen before. "Are you alright?"

I nodded.

He held me for a beat longer before going to work on the key which slipped right out for him. "Oh," he turned around, "your couches came today. And…I got you something." The uncertainty that flashed across his face was almost amusing and I wondered how bad I really was at accepting gifts and how he'd come to realize it.

"You did?" I didn't react with my normal displeasure at money being spent for my sake, but with more surprise than anything else.

Edward took my hand. "It's in the library, I didn't know if you'd – if you don't like it, its ok." We walked as far as the archway before he covered my eyes with one hand, using the other to pull my back against him. "Go forward," he nudged me lightly and my fingers instinctively reached out in front of me though I knew he'd never let me hit anything.

"Do we have to do this part?"

"Yeah, one more step," when I took it he stilled us both. "Ok."

He dropped his hand and I looked in front of me. Positioned near the fireplace, directly next to my side table, was a new chair and ottoman. Not just any chair, my dreamed for chair. I know it probably sounds silly, but it wasn't just the pieces of furniture. It was everything that came with them, curling up after a long day with a good book, the warmth of the fireplace, and the feeling that there was nowhere else I'd rather be.

Edward put it exactly where I would have and there was already a blanket resting over the arm. "How did you know…," I ran my fingers across the soft fabric; it was nearly large enough for two people.

I looked back to Edward and he shrugged. "Your house is still pretty empty and…do you like it?"

I nodded and wanted to say that it was perfect, but instead I jumped into his arms. He lifted me just enough that my toes were off the ground and we were at eye level.

"It's kind of a bribe too," he added.

I raised an eyebrow, "a bribe?"

"To get you to go out with me…like on a date." His cockiness retreated on the word "date." He looked suddenly boyish, as if he'd never asked anyone out before. The sight of him like that coiled and heated something inside me and I tried to remember that we were taking it slow, but then another part of me said we were taking it too slow and before I could wait for a rebuttal from my good side, I kissed him.

He kept his grip tight, but his movements soft. He relaxed into it and then pressed harder; we breathed each other's air and I could feel him pull back enough to smile before he kissed me again. I felt his body under my hands, hard where I was soft. Too soon he pulled away, inhaling and exhaling hard. He touched his forehead to mine and I realized I was still up in the air. "I think our versions of taking it slow are different."

"We could do your version, if you'd like."

He kissed me quickly. "Yours is better."

And before I could kiss him again and forget all our rules, we heard footsteps in the entryway. "Don't run for you life! It's just us!" Alice called out teasingly.

Edward lowered me down.

"In here," I called back.

Alice kept talking as she and Rose walked back together. "I know you said no alcohol, but -," she stopped abruptly once Edward came into her view. "Oh…hello Edward," she said primly.

"Alice," he nodded at her.

"The girls are sleeping over tonight," I explained.

After a round of hellos and goodbyes, I walked him out into the clouding over daylight of the back porch. "Tomorrow night? I'll pick you up," he grinned. He kissed me again, too fast for my liking, before vaulting over the railing and into the grass. He looked back and gave a little wave.

"If you're done making googly eyes at each other," Rose said from the other side of the screen, "Alice made martinis."

I flushed and went inside. "Were you watching the whole time?"

"I don't know, maybe," she grinned.

I nudged her with my elbow and she nudged me back.

In the kitchen, Alice was dancing, pouring the contents of her shaker into three glasses. "It makes it taste better," she explained. She handed the first one to me, "I'll give him the benefit of the doubt…he really likes you, ya know."

"I know, and thank you."

We took our drinks into the den where Alice and Rosalie hopped onto the love seats; Edward had the deliverymen position them so they faced each other. We caught up, breaking only long enough for another round of drinks; I know I'd mentioned a dry night; maybe we'd try that next time.

"So…you proposed to him?" Rosalie asked, sipping from her glass.

"Not like down-on-one-knee, but I said it first. We don't have rings or anything yet, but…it was right." She looked down into her glass. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you guys."

Rosalie stretched out, pushing her toes under my thigh, her head against the arm of the seat. "Already forgiven." Rose was like that, slow to warm up, but once you were in, you were in for life.

"Wait…you didn't have a dress? Nothing? _You?_"

Rose realized what I was talking about and laughed. "Remember when she 'married'," she put up air quotes, "Mike Newton?"

"Hey," Alice defended, "he was a step up from Mr. Bear," her favorite stuffed animal from childhood.

I grinned, trying to keep from laughing. "And then your mom called you a Nazi and you asked Esme what that meant," I covered my mouth with my hand.

_She held her checklist tightly, her pink Valentine's Day pen in the other hand. Our moms had brought us and the supplies over to Rose's house and Alice's mom had just finished pinning an old white nightgown up high enough that Alice wouldn't trip over it when she walked down the aisle in the back yard. _

"_It's freezing out here! Can't you get married inside?" Rose whined._

_I stood by her, trying to clean the grass stains off the back of my dress. We wore them over jeans and sweaters, but it was February and we wanted to make smores by the fireplace. _

"_No way, pretend it's summer time."_

_My mom came up from behind me. "Mom! You touched my butt!"_

"_You had grass on your dress, baby. Now smile you two." She held up her camera and Rosalie crossed her eyes while I stuck out my tongue. "Oh, that was lovely."_

_When we all looked up again, Alice was ready, a pillow case on her head for a veil. She looked at us, and at the parents moving to sit in the folding chairs, and then around as if making one more inspection of everything. She nodded to herself. "This is exactly how I want it to be."_

"Oh," Alice said much later. "I brought some movies."

It was dark out by this time and raining and I could only imagine what movies she'd brought with her.

"I have Amityville, The Ring, and It."

I snorted. "It, definitely."

We pulled the television stand closer and took out the junk food from the bag Alice brought with her. "Hey, have you had anymore encounters with your ghost?" Alice asked, kneeling in front of the television with the DVD.

"No, I think it was the mice in the attic…,"

"Mice?" Rosalie looked ready to bolt; her big fear? Tiny creatures you couldn't train to fetch or roll over.

"Charlie got traps for them."

"So," she grabbed a blanket from the pile we'd tossed between us, "there are just…dead mouse bodies hanging out in your attic then?"

"Uh…,"

"It's starting," Alice jumped onto the other sofa and wrapped herself in a blanket.

We watched all three movies, one right after the other, which we all knew was probably not the best idea, but the more we watched the more we became afraid to turn it off and go to sleep.

"Hmm," Alice mused at the end of the last movie. "The Amityville house looks kind of like this house."

I held my blanket tightly; it was wrapped around me so everything was covered except my face. "Alice, you can't say things like that; I have to live here, remember?"

"Yeah," Rose added from her spot almost in my lap. She yawned without covering her mouth, "that's it for the fright fest, right?"

"Yeah, I'm exhausted," Alice checked the time on her cell phone; I was sure it was well after midnight. "Where are we sleeping?"

"Uh, here?" I looked around, there were plenty of blankets to add cushion to the floor. "Or the library if you want me to start a fire," I thought of sleeping by the hearth curled up like a cat.

A noise made us all fall silent. Something from another room, the long and low creaking of a wooden floorboard.

"Oh, fuck," Alice muttered.

And then the same noise again but from a different direction.

"Was that a mouse?" Rosalie sat up straight, tucking her feet underneath her. "Or…like…a herd of mice?"

_tap…tap tap_

Our heads whipped right; that had come from outside.

"That better not be Edward. Go check," Alice said.

I had a memory of the first time my parents let me stay home alone at night; I had watched a movie about an escaped mental patient and then slept with a baseball bat under my bed. "By myself?"

"Here, take this," she offered me an empty martini glass.

"What am I supposed to do? Mix it a drink?"

"You can hit him with it or something."

"Are we still talking about Edward?" I was stalling for time.

She rolled her eyes at me.

I got up and tripped over the blankets in a fit of sudden clumsy courage. One small step, and then another. I didn't need to make it all the way over, just close enough that they'd believe me when I said it was nothing. Leaning as close as I dared, I peeked through the opening in the heavy curtains. "It's a damn tree branch, you guys." I exhaled in barely contained relief, some time since we'd been inside, the weather had picked up. The wind pushed at the trees and then relented, then started up again; the perfect atmosphere for a sleepless night.

"What about the creaking?" Rosalie asked, still tucked into a tiny ball of fleece.

"We can sleep in the library, ok?" I got up and started gathering the blankets for our migration down the hall. I had about three in hand when I realized my friends had yet to move. "What's wrong?"

They looked at each other and then at me. Alice spoke up, "the first noises were coming from the library."

I stared at them both, an idea of what they wanted clearing in my mind. I shook my head. "You guys aren't sleeping in my bed again."

They unleashed The Eyes on me.

I shook my head again. "No, it's not big enough for three people." I shifted the blankets in my arms. "No way."

*~*~*~*

"Whose hand is on my ass?" Rosalie mumbled against the pillow we were sharing, my pillow.

I pulled my bedspread up over my head.

"Mine, sorry," Alice answered. "G'night Rose, night Bella."

"Goodnight Alice, night Rose."

"Night Bella, g'night Alice."

It was quiet for about thirty seconds until Alice snorted. "You know, if the boys could see us right now I bet their heads would be exploding."

I smiled despite myself. _The boys_. It had kind of a nice ring to it.

* * *

Author's Note: In case you missed it in my profile, I'm participating in MsKathy's Haitian relief effort. If you donate at least five dollars to the charity of your choice, she will send you a file filled with outtakes, one shots, etc from a ton of FanFiction authors. I'll be contributing an outtake from this story. It's from Edward's point of view from the time Tanya shows up until the part where he finally talks with Bella; there's also a bunch of citrusy flashbacks from Bella's birthday as well. As of now, I'm not planning on posting it publicly at all, so if you'd like to read it make sure to donate!

For more information, you can find the link in my profile.

If you choose to donate, the deadline is 11:59PM on January 24, so hurry!

And a note on the story - I've been asked just how much Edward knows about Bella through his relationship with Renee and the answer is not very much. The only time she's told him anything was the day she talked about Bella not liking her birthday. Anyway, thanks for reading!


	25. Nineteen: What Do the Damn Names Mean?

Nineteen: What Do the Damn Names Mean?

_She was driving too fast, but she was also really pissed so we didn't say anything. "I'm telling your parents first thing in the morning, young ladies. Count yourself lucky that I don't call them right this second." Alice and Rosalie looked defeated in the backseat, their heads down in mutual repentance. I sat in the front seat, my arms crossed, with traitorous crocodile tears slipping down my face. She glanced at me, but didn't say anything._

_It was silent as the car whipped past trees on both sides of the curving highway, their branches black in the darkness. Up ahead, I saw the glowing eyes of an animal. "Deer," I muttered._

"_I see it." She snapped, slowing the car slightly as we passed. It stared at us, wide eyed, but other than the quick flick of it's ears it made no movements. Someone in the backseat cleared her throat._

"_Um…Mrs. Swan?" Alice spoke up bravely._

"_Yes, Alice?"_

"_We're really sorry we snuck out," she paused and Renee "mm-hmm'd" at her. "But uh…it was kind of a big night."_

_My face went crimson and I bit my lip – don't tell her don't tell her. _

"_Bella got her first kiss."_

_Fudge! "Alice!" I spun in my seat to face her._

"_What? It's a big deal!"_

I woke up from my dream suddenly, thinking I'd heard something. When there was nothing I relaxed, stretching my legs over my new ottoman; I sunk back into the cushions of the chair and smiled sleepily to myself.

And then there it was, whatever it was that had startled me awake – knocking. I stood up and made my way to the hallway; I peeked toward the back door, the memories of spectral creaks and groans not far behind. I saw the shadow of a male shape through the glass and the screen. Edward, my breath released.

He had a small lopsided grin on his face when I answered the door. "Taking a nap?"

"Yeah, how can you tell?"

He reached out and brushed his fingers through a section of my hair, taming the shambles, no doubt. "No reason." He used the same hand to tug on my belt loops, pulling me through the doorway completely, the screen slapping shut behind me. Before I could ask what he was doing, he pressed himself close until we were lined up; he smiled devilishly and then settled his lips over mine. I brought my arms up until I could brush my fingers through his hair because I knew he liked that. He pushed harder and walked me backward until I was sandwiched between him and the door. I was a little afraid we'd fall right through as hard as I was pressed against it, but I didn't care enough to move. He pulled back just as I was getting ready to wrap a leg around him.

"Hi," I said, feeling dreamy.

"Don't you hate the part at the end of the date when all you can think about is that kiss…now we don't have to worry about it." Edward told me he'd come by at seven, which I still thought was silly, but he insisted. He left me there, breathless and still leaning precariously against the screen, that familiar little smirk at his lips.

"_You kissed somebody?" Renee glanced at me for longer than I thought was safe._

_I turned away from Alice, who looked more satisfied than repentant now, and faced forward again. I mumbled, "yes." When I gathered enough courage to look up again, I could have sworn I saw my mother tearing up._

"_Your first kiss," she said. "Ok," she pulled off the highway an exit too early and headed into town. The only place still open was a chain grocery store; she pulled into the parking lot and got out, leaving us to wait._

"_Why'd you tell her, Alice?"_

"_Yeah, like she's not pissed enough," Rose added._

"_She's not gonna be mad anymore," she grinned. "Trust me, it's gonna be fine."_

Black pants, white top.

_The_ dress.

Dark jeans, cream blouse.

The _other_ dress – the color of black coffee, and soft. It went to the knee and had long sleeves, but hugged tightly. Alice called it my "use your dirty imagination" dress. This was what I wanted Edward to see me in; I looked down at myself after I put my boots on, I felt like the spark to his match.

"Bella?" Edward's voice came from the foot of the stairs. He'd been doing that, letting himself in. I didn't mind, felt myself anticipating him actually; it often led to those fantasies I didn't even try to stifle anymore.

"Coming."

"_She stopped off to buy groceries?" Rosalie peeked out from between the two front seats. Renee was coming back with a heavy looking plastic bag. "Wait that's – ice cream?"_

"_My mom's so weird."_

_She got in the car and handed me the bag; I set it down by my feet. She looked at all three of us, "I'm still mad at you girls, as punishment, you're all attached to me for the next twenty four hours. You two can spend that time worrying about what I'm going to tell your parents." She cut her eyes at me, but flashed the beginning of a grin._

_Though she didn't mention it right then, I worried about what she was going to tell Charlie; he thought I was too young to date, let alone kiss random boys at parties. _

_I wasn't spontaneous, even at fifteen I knew this. I touched my lips, remembering what he'd felt like. He was one of Jacob's friends and had watched me all night; it made me feel like I was burning and by the time he finally walked up it had coiled inside me and I couldn't stand still._

_I didn't even know his name; it was just some vague word Jacob had said once offhand. I thought maybe I'd regret it later, or maybe not. Maybe it was perfect the way it was._

Edward was dressed all in black and his hair was a different mess than usual. He put his hands on me when I was close enough and I thought perhaps he could feel my skin under the dress. "You look good," his words kind of melted at the ends and I was sure my already overheated skin was turning crimson. "Ready?"

I could only nod.

We drove into town in his rickety but well kept car in relative quiet. When we stopped at a light, he put his hand on my knee and I tilted my legs closer almost unconsciously. After a second he began brushing his thumb back and forth, each pass bringing his fingertips under the hem of my dress. My legs were bare and his hands were warm. I counted to four on my inhales and exhales, afraid that he would stop if I moved.

"Sorry," he said suddenly, pulling his hand away and stepping on the gas. He looked faintly frustrated with himself.

"For what?"

"Almost not – taking it slow anymore," he glanced at me with potent suggestion.

"Oh." His hand on my leg, inching higher while driving at the same time, the idea had possibilities. But I'd promised myself we'd be good; I wanted to know him and I wanted him to know me too. There were things still in the dark with us and that was alright, but I knew we could be more. I laughed to myself, we'd done everything completely backward, and it may not be right but I did love him, now I needed to fill that love in.

Edward took me to a quiet little restaurant in town; it was one of those candlelit places that put tables outside during the summer months. The owner was an Italian expatriate named Alessandro. He made it a point to visit with every patron; he flirted with the ladies and was adamant about proper wine selection.

We sat at a corner booth, ordered drinks; Alessandro corrected us and we ordered again.

We drank, peeked over our glasses at each other, drank some more. Selected food to go with the wine instead of the other way around.

It was quiet. I could hear the electric crackling between us, but no actual words which is how it so often was.

We got another glass of wine.

"This is -," "Do you -," we said at the same time.

He grinned, "we're not strangers," he said half to himself.

Finally, I put my glass down. "Edward,"

I felt his legs stretch under the table and then his feet as they came to rest on the outside of mine. He leaned forward, "yes?" He drew out the word as if anticipating something illicit.

I tried to ignore the way he lifted one eyebrow ever so slightly, the way his fingers touched his glass, and the way he looked right into my eyes when he talked. "Um…what do the names on the sticky notes mean?"

"_Rocky Road, vanilla? Chocolate syrup? Sprinkles? Cookie dough? Strawberry? Caramel?" My mother filled bowls and asked questions at the same time; she told us to be quiet unless we wanted Charlie to come down and join us. She made a noise, "hmm, might not matter, he sleeps like the dead anyway. Living room, girls, it'll be more comfortable than the table."_

_Her punishment was effective; I was mortified._

_Rose sat on one side of the couch with me; she leaned close to my ear, "this is awkward as hell." _

_Alice leaned over on my other side, "it'll be fine," she stage whispered._

"_How do you know?" I asked._

"_I just do."_

"_So," my mom sat down on Charlie's recliner, "tell me everything."_

Edward looked down, but not like he was shutting off, more in a way that communicated embarrassment. He took a sip of wine. "It's kind of stupid."

I kept watching him, thinking that nothing important to him I'd ever call stupid.

"A while back, I wrote a book – I mean, I started to. My own, not a biography. I used to write in the main house sometimes and I put up notes all over the place, so I'd remember things, you know? Places, dates, that sort of thing." He played with the edge of his cloth napkin, "and I just – left the names up."

There was more so I kept quiet and I could be wrong, but I thought I saw him blush.

"And…," he said the next part in a rush. "I told you I thought the house was haunted, well, I used those names for the…," he made a motion with his hands. "I'm not going to say it; I was only half serious at the time anyway." Edward looked like he was ready to be made fun of.

"Why'd you stop writing it?"

The food came and we both started eating, just as I was about to repeat my question, he answered with, "it wasn't…right."

I didn't like the way he said it, like he was defeated before he'd even started. "How do you know?"

"It just wasn't, your -," he caught himself. "Can we talk about something else?"

_My what? _

He slid his hand across the table, but didn't touch mine. "I'm sorry, I just – I decided to stop working on it after, a while back. Maybe I'll start it again sometime," he shrugged and I couldn't decide if he was placating me or if he really meant it.

I chose to lay off it for the time being, but it wasn't something I'd forget. "So," I grinned, "you named the ghosts in my house?"

He heard it first and his face changed. "What did you just say?"

"What? I said…," I looked at the table and pushed my fork through the cream sauce still on my plate, "_my_ house."

"_So, what was your first kiss like?" Rosalie squirted a bit of chocolate syrup straight into her mouth. "Was it Charlie?"_

_I cringed, but a part of me was curious at the mystery surrounding my mother's life before me; it was hard to imagine such a time. She was always _Mom_. She folded towels and burned dinner, she read me bedtime stories as a child and I never had to think that she'd ever actually had sex or any life that would put her in a different role than the one I was familiar with._

"_No, it wasn't Charlie," my mom's face got wistful, lost in whatever memory she was having. "Tommy Durbin, we were at my mom's house, on the back porch." She laughed, girlishly, "I was out way past curfew. He was the love of my life for six months," she smiled and reached for the caramel. "I have so many memories in that house."_

_Gran's place, I thought to myself. We used to spend summers there, but they'd faded over time to old photographs and the taste of lemonade and grilled cheese sandwiches. When I looked up again, my mom was looking at me, pondering something. "What?" I asked her, checking my shirt for ice cream stains._

"_I think…that'll be your house some day."_

Though he'd kissed me before the date started, Edward felt no qualms about doing it again when the date ended.

The kiss was deep and for some reason it made me think about living, that maybe that's what this house was supposed to be for me – a way to start.

I pushed my fingers through Edward's hair and he made a small noise that I felt on my lips. I very much wanted to invite him in, but instead we slowed and the kiss became a lingering promise of something that wouldn't happen tonight, but some time in the very near future. I could feel our rules coming to an end.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks to all the readers and to everyone that donated to MsKathy's Haiti relief effort; she helped to raise more than 85 thousand dollars. That's pretty incredible, you guys.

On a non-related note, I find it hilarious how many of you have suggested that Edward and Bella have sex in her new chair. :)


	26. Three Months Ago

Three Months Ago…

_A month left, maybe two._

Renee had decided to stop chemotherapy. "I _feel_ like I'm dying," she'd said to Phil. He didn't like it when she talked like that and he'd fought hard to get her to reconsider. But she could see what her doctors were afraid to say – three cycles of chemo and she was worse; it wasn't working. Phil said they'd try harder, try something new, he'd shaved his head in solidarity and kissed the bare skin where her hair used to be and said she was beautiful and that it wasn't time to say goodbye.

She could hear him making food for himself in the kitchen; he'd closed the bedroom door for her because the smell, he knew, would make her nauseated. The blinds on the window behind her were closed, the sunlight made her head hurt. Her pillow was on the floor so she could lie down flat on the bed, blankets tucked up to her chest and under her arms; she liked to have her arms free. She stared at the cottage cheese ceiling and tried to frown, but found it difficult. _I really wanted to sand that flat._

Around her ear was the headset from her phone; she'd talked to her daughter, made her cry with the news of her decision. She was trying to be Renee's mother now; she was trying to use reason and logic to change her mind. Bella was only barely beginning to see the world as something other than black and white.

Renee hit a button on the phone and then relaxed her hand, letting it fall limp onto the bedspread. In her ear, she heard the ringing.

"Hello?" Edward answered.

Renee opened her mouth, but couldn't force any sound out of the dry hollow of her throat.

"Hello?" He asked again, "Renee?"

He must have looked at his caller ID. "Edward," she tried to make her voice sound warm.

"Hey."

She could tell he had smiled when he'd spoken. She swallowed, "I finished your manuscript." Phil had read it to her at night when she became too tired to do it herself anymore. "It was brilliant, Edward, I loved it." She closed her eyes. He had a gift, a true natural talent and if it was the last thing she ever read, she'd consider herself lucky.

"Really? Because you can tell me the truth," he hedged.

_Do I ever sugarcoat things? _"I am." Renee wanted to talk to him about it, ask him questions about different passages and tell him her thoughts on how he might finish it. But she was tired.

"Renee?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she squeezed her eyes more tightly closed. "Promise me something, ok?"

He answered quickly, "anything."

"Finish it," Renee tried to sound firm and parental, but it came out more like a plea.

"I – I'll try, I mean it's -,"

"Finish your book, Edward. Promise," she said with as much strength as her failing body could muster.

"Ok," he said, sounding surprised and a little amused by her tenacity. "I promise, Renee."


	27. Twenty: One of Those Days

Twenty: One of Those Days

"No he isn't…we – we have…time."

You know that phrase _so good it hurts_?

Yeah. That's all.

Edward's hand gripped my leg, which was wrapped possessively around him, with kneading fingers. His body pushed closer and his hand slid up high while I fought off my need for oxygen. I felt his teeth come around my earlobe and the air I'd worked so hard to inhale left me in a rush. _"Edward."_

A little moan traveled from his lips straight to my center. "_Fuck_, Bella." His breath blew against my neck when he spoke and I shivered despite his heat. "Ok," he finally gave in; he used his free hand to unfasten the button on my jeans while my own frantic fingers reached for whatever fabric I could rip off him.

Three knocks, business-like, made us both jump away from the front door I'd been against. Edward said it turned him on to see me like that, my back pressed to the wall. I was more than happy to oblige.

He let his head fall to my shoulder. "Damn," he whispered. This would have been the first time since the first time. He looked up at me and grinned slowly.

"What?" I pulled back and tried to fix my clothes and my hair simultaneously.

"Your dad's going to be able to tell," he finger combed my hair back off my shoulders. "Sorry," he added.

But I was the one who'd all but dragged him on top of me. "I'm not."

Charlie knocked again.

His smile came back, but then abruptly, he frowned. "Uh…I should go."

I started to ask why until I followed his gaze to the front of his pants; I pressed my lips together.

"Can I see you later?" He asked, his face still faintly flushed.

"Bella?" My father called from the other side of the door.

We rushed through a goodbye and I told him that I'd come over after Charlie left. He went out the back door while I tried not to laugh; when he was gone, I spun around and opened the front door.

"Dad," my voice was still breathless.

He was frowning at me and I saw what he probably saw. My hair was a mess, my eyes were half glazed, my lips thoroughly kissed and my nervous too-fake smile. But we both knew I was much too old to be "caught." Still, he didn't look pleased. "Are you alright?" He asked.

"Yeah," I answered too quickly. It was amazing how my state immediately shifted to that of a much younger girl around my father. I didn't want him to know I'd had a boy over.

"Mm-hmm," he stepped through the threshold and glanced around like he always did, his hands in his jacket pockets. "Edward around?"

I staved off the blush that was trying to creep into my cheeks. "He's in the other house…working – writer, you know. Hungry? I'm making steak." I knew it would get his attention.

I cooked while he shifted awkwardly, probably wanting to help but unaware of how to actually do so. Eventually he pulled a beer from my fridge and settled at the table. I was pulling potatoes out of the oven when he started talking about Renee.

"The first thing your mother ever cooked for me was steak," he had this look like he wanted me to ask him about it, so I nodded and started putting things on plates. "With this vegetable…thing, and pie for afterward," he grinned into his bottle and took a drink.

"_It's called paella," Renee lifted a lid to inspect the contents. It's not that anything looked particularly bad, it just didn't look quite right._

_Charlie glanced at me and mouthed, _paella?

_I mouthed back, _seafood and rice_; he nodded._

"_It's ready!" _

_We had to eat it, she looked so excited._

I set the food down in front of him and got a beer for myself. "I'm not quite that ambitious." We ate quietly and I'm certain it was because we were facing each other; I knew there were things he wanted to say that he wouldn't say to anyone else, but also wouldn't say to me if he had to look right at me. When we finished and the dishes were clean and put away I asked my dad to go on a walk with me.

_It was nearly midnight and my parents had gone to bed an hour ago. I tiptoed down the stairs in a way only a clumsy person such as myself is able and hopped over the creaky spots in the floor to the kitchen. It was pitch black so I stuck my hands out to search for the refrigerator; instead I came into contact with a wall, a very soft wall._

_I jumped, stifling a yelp._

"_Shit," the wall spoke._

"_Dad?" My eyes had adjusted enough to make out his shape next to the sink._

"_Uh…,"_

"_What are you doing down here in the dark?" I reached for the light switch._

"_No, don't," he put a hand out. _

_We stood there in an awkward stand off, neither of us admitting our reasons for sneaking around the house in the middle of the night. Finally, he snorted. "I'm doing the same thing you're doing." And then as if it were a two person job, we both went to the fridge._

"_I think there's still pizza in there from yesterday," I said, trying to look around him._

_He pulled out the half empty box and handed me a cold slice; we didn't want to use the microwave, my mother was a light sleeper. We each took a bite at the same time. "Hey Bells?"_

"_Yeah," I said around my mouthful._

"_Don't tell your mother."_

Our walk only lasted long enough for us to get from the back porch to the gazebo before it started raining again. I rested my elbows on the railing and let the water droplets fall onto my hands. Charlie leaned against the post next to me and faced the opposite direction. "How're you doing, kiddo?"

I shrugged and watched the water hit the pond; it looked a little like dancing. "Alright, I guess."

"And that boy?"

"He's fine," my mouth curved up halfway. I wondered if Edward had glanced out his window at all. "We're fine." Charlie was close enough that I could smell his cologne; it was woodsy and green, fitting.

"Your mom used to say that and it was never true."

For all the times I thought I wanted to talk about Renee, when Charlie actually did I found myself retreating. "I'm alright, really." He hmm'd at me.

"You know," he continued. "You're a lot like her."

"I -," my shoulders tightened. "I'm not – like her." She and I were almost complete opposites; she was wild and funny and, I don't know, uncontained. I was just – not. I felt my mood dipping precariously.

I watched the water while my dad watched the floor, we spoke a little but something had just become off about the whole day. When he left I gave him a hug and said that I was sorry I was such poor company. He hugged me back and said he didn't mind and that he'd see me next week.

My clothes soaked through on the way to Edward's but when I thought of warming up next to him, it wasn't so bad. I'd missed him in the little while we were apart, but that wasn't what was bothering me. It was just me, I guess. Edward answered the door in pajama pants and a blanket; he looked cold. He opened up the blanket and let me in, closing it around me. I was surrounded by him and it felt good. I pressed my face to his chest and wrapped my arms around his waist. The time we spent there in the dark was interminable.

Eventually, he lowered the blanket so my face was uncovered. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, can we just – go lay down or something?" I let him lead me into his bedroom.

We got underneath the covers with the extra blanket and I didn't mean to, but I fell asleep.

_I sat down nervously, wondering why we weren't having this conversation with dad. I picked at my nails until Renee pursed her lips at me, after that I switched to picking at the fraying knee of my jeans._

"_Ok," she took a breath, "you know I'll be moving to Florida at the end of August…,"_

_Yes, I knew all too well. She couldn't live here anymore, she'd said. She needed sunlight and whatever._

"_I'd like you to come with me." Renee sat very still, waiting for my reaction._

"_Are you serious?" I was under the impression she didn't want me to come with her. When my parents argued and they didn't know I was listening she'd cry about her life here; she said she was drowning. I was the anchor pulling her down and tying her to this life she didn't want anymore. If it wasn't for me she would have left a long time ago. _

"_Of course I am."_

"_But," I started. I didn't need to leave. What she thought was boring and oppressive was what I called my life, it was all I knew. "I like it here."_

"_I know you do baby, but…we could have a fresh start. You could do your last year of high school out there…just you and me."_

_I shook my head, "no, I…I want to stay here with dad." _

"_Bella, how is he going to take care of you?" She was starting to sound exasperated and I'm sure she had this planned out differently in her head._

_I thought to myself – _he doesn't need to take care of me, I need to take care of him_. I had to be useful somewhere and I knew I'd just get in my mother's way. We were too different. _

_She kept talking, "he's gone all the time, do you really think he's going to change now? What kind of life are you going to have?" I thought maybe she was talking to herself._

_I felt a muscle working in my jaw; hadn't they loved each other? "What do you care? He's not the one that wants to leave, _you_ are."_

When I woke up, it was dark outside and Edward was still sleeping. Before we'd gotten into bed I'd kicked off my shoes, now I unbuttoned my jeans and tried to wriggle out of them without waking him up. I let them drop to the floor and then rolled onto my side. Edward's sleeping face would have looked pouty if it weren't for his smoothed out features. In his sleep, he sighed.

I ran my thumb over his cheekbone; I wanted my hands to memorize his face, but I didn't want to wake him. _What are you dreaming about? _During quiet times like these I wished I could see inside his mind and find the things he had yet to tell me. I brushed a strand of hair back off his forehead and then turned to get out of bed.

I got up and felt my way around the bed in the darkness, at one corner I stubbed my toe and forgot I was trying to be quiet. "_Fudge_," I gritted my teeth.

"Bella," Edward's sleepy voice whispered. He sounded amused and half unconscious still, "what did you say?"

Giving up on my quest for water, I crawled back into bed. "Nothing," I muttered. Rosalie and Alice were used to my habitual alternative to swearing, but I realized that Edward probably wasn't. I worked my way back under the blankets and Edward opened his arms for me.

He chuckled drowsily. "Renee said 'fudge' all the time too." He smiled as if talking about a close friend, a fond memory, someone he knew well.

I sat up. _What?_ I ran the words through my head again – _Renee…all the time_.

In the dark, I could see the way he'd stilled, his mind catching up with his words. "I -,"

"Edward, what do you -," I felt strange. "I thought you said…," another memory, Edward and I sitting in the den, our quid pro quo game.

"_Um, did you know my mother very well?"_

_Edward rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "I knew her, she rented me the guesthouse. She came with Phil a few times…," he let his sentence trail off so it felt like an unfinished thought._

"How well did you know my mother?"

* * *

Author's Note: I meant to say this on the last update, since this story is almost done I'll be posting chapters/flashbacks as I finish them instead of once a week. The next one is a flashback and should be up today or tomorrow. Someone also asked me about Edward and Bella's ages, I don't really have specific ages in mind - mid-twenties'ish.

Anyway, thank you lovelies :)


	28. One Month Three Weeks And Three Days Ago

One Month, Three Weeks, and Three Days Ago…

Phil didn't know how to tie a tie. He watched his hands in the small mirror Renee hung on their bedroom wall, but the loops he was supposed to make made no sense. "God…_damn_," he yanked the material from his neck and threw it on their bed. He'd made it that morning out of habit because maybe if he did things just as he usually did, things might just keep on going like they usually did.

His phone vibrated on the nightstand and he grabbed for it quickly. "Hello? Edward?" It wasn't him, it was a representative from the church; Phil stumbled through what he hoped were appropriate responses.

Renee had called that boy almost every week; he'd hear her laugh or give sage advice in the kitchen and know immediately who she was talking to. "He's just a little lost right now," she'd tell her husband. And now, as if he didn't want to know, Edward wasn't answering his phone.

Phil and Renee had read his manuscript together; it was good, not that Phil was a great source of judgment. But he knew what he liked and he saw the talent the kid had if he'd just get off his ass and do something about it. Phil tried calling again and got Edward's voicemail. He dropped his phone on the bed and went back to fighting with the tie.

He kept his eyes off his face in the mirror; he just couldn't look at himself and see the evidence of the last few months etched permanently into his skin. He wouldn't do anything today that would make it more real than it already was. His hands shook; it made fixing his tie impossible. "Fuck," he wiped angrily at his eyes. Renee would know how to do it.

Someone knocked at his half open door.

"Charlie," Phil's voice was thick.

He cleared his throat. Phil saw that Charlie's eyes were red rimmed though his demeanor remained stoic. "The uh, the girls are ready to go." His eyes swept over him quickly, "do…do you need help with that?" He raised a hand to indicate Phil's tie.

Phil shrugged and tried to speak. "I -," his voice caught. He pulled the tie from his neck and tossed to Charlie who expertly put it around his own neck and tied it before handing it back. Phil nodded a thank you and slipped it on, clenching his jaw tightly to keep in control.

Charlie put his hands in his jacket pockets. "Well…we're at the car whenever you're…," he trailed off.

Phil nodded again. When he was alone, he grabbed his phone. _One more time kid. _He listened to it ring and on the third one, Edward answered. "Hey Renee," he said it so lightly, like everything was fine.

Phil opened his mouth, closed it. It hit him all of a sudden; he had no proof, but everything screamed that he was right. _This poor kid has no idea she was even sick._

"Renee?" Edward asked, "hello?"

Phil wanted to live in that world, the one where his wife was still alive. He hated that he was going to be the one to single handedly destroy it. "Edward, it's…it's Phil."

"Oh…what's up?"

There were no right words for this. "Do you uh, do you have a…I need to speak with you." He paused, but Edward didn't say anything. "I've been trying to get a hold of you," he stalled.

"Yeah, sorry about that, I was out of town…," Edward waited. "What's going on?"

"Renee…," his throat began to close. "Re- she's – passed away."

Edward huffed, "that's – that's not fucking funny."

"She had cancer, Edward; she -,"

"Phil," he warned desperately.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know why she didn't tell -,"

With a disbelief that Phil recognized too clearly, Edward mumbled, "no."

Phil grasped at anything he could possibly say; he rambled, trying to patch Edward back together. "She, she loved your book and she cared for you a lot, you were like a -," he couldn't bring himself to say it. "The services are today, I'm sorry this isn't any notice…," he tried to think of something else to say. "I'm just…so sorry." For so much, he thought. Phil was quiet for a full minute, lost in his own questions. _Why didn't you tell him, Renee? _

"Edward, if you…if there's anything you need or, I don't know…if you want to just…," Phil paused, listening. "Edward?" He hadn't hung up, but Phil was sure he was gone. "Hello? …Edward? Are you there…,"


	29. Twenty One: Everything

Author's Note: This may be a tissue chapter, just sayin'

* * *

Twenty One: Everything

"_Fuck!" I cradled one hand in the other, gritting my teeth against the burn from the stove._

"_Isabella Swan!" My mother scolded from behind me. "Watch your language, young lady."_

"_But mom," I whined, turning on the faucet. "It really-,"_

"_But nothing, I won't have that kind of talk in my house." She crossed her arms as if to say, _and that's final.

*~*~*~*

"How well did you know my mother?"

A crease formed between Edward's eyebrows as he read into what I was asking. "Bella…not like _that_." He made a face and I wanted to smile, but I still couldn't.

I sat crossed legged on the bed while Edward leaned against the headboard. "That's not really what I meant…," although it was comforting to know. "I mean," I wasn't sure what I meant, but I felt protective of my mother and her memory and I was angry. There was a part of her I didn't know that Edward did, something he hadn't told me. "What don't I know?" I realized, watching his expression change, that this was that last piece he'd been keeping from me.

He looked hurt, not by me, but by whatever it was he was thinking. I wondered what kinds of things he was remembering.

*~*~*~*

July 29th, 2009

I stood in the hallway because I couldn't go into my mother's bedroom again. To look at her, it was like seeing her already dead. She was so frail I could have picked her up myself and her pale skin that used to gleam was like clay now. I could almost count the bones in her hands. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed to a God I wasn't even sure I believed in. _Please, she's my mom_, _you can't take her yet. _

I turned the doorknob and entered quietly, it was so dark in the room without the blinds open that I could never tell if she was asleep or not, or worse. It terrified me to walk in there every day. I stopped just past the doorway, waiting for my eyes to adjust and listening desperately for the sound of her breathing. _Please, I need her_.

"Baby?"

Tears pricked my eyes at the overwhelming relief. I moved to sit at her bedside; I grabbed the lotion bottle from the nightstand because I need to do something. She always had the softest hands. I rubbed some of the cream between mine and then started with her right one. I rubbed my fingers into her palms, moving them in a slow circle up to her fingertips; I made a second pass and when I was finished, I switched to her other hand.

"I want to go for a walk on the beach," she said in her new, quiet voice after a while. It made everything she said sound like tears.

I set my hands in my lap. "Mom, I don't think that's such a good idea." I didn't want to wonder aloud if she could even get out of bed; the thought sent a new round of fear spiking through me.

She made a soft clucking noise at me.

"Mom, I just don't -,"

"Bella," she said, scolding. And then her expression changed to one of pity. "Always so afraid."

"I, I'm not afraid. I just think you should stay here."

She smiled part way and for a second I saw her the way she used to be. "Stay for what? The view?"

My lips curved up, "well, no…I could open the blinds," I offered.

"I won't see anything," she stopped and swallowed slowly, "they're behind me."

"It's going to be dark soon, you'll…catch a chill," it sounded pathetic even to me.

"Baby," she said, the rest of the statement was implied. _I'm dying_. She stretched her fingers out so I took her hand. "If I don't go now, when will I?"

I looked up, trying to blink back tears. "Mom…,"

Phil walked in then and I quickly wiped my free hand under my eyes. He was carrying a heavy looking flannel blanket; I stood up and backed away a couple of steps to give him room for whatever he was doing. "Hey baby," he cooed at her. "Here," he put his hands under her and helped her sit up while simultaneously wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. They shared a look that made me move my gaze to the floor. "Ok," he said after a moment. He picked her up like she weighed nothing, "Bella, will you fix this?"

I moved blankly, tucking the sides of the blanket over her. "What are you doing?" I asked after a beat.

"She wants to go on a walk; I'm taking her on a walk."

My mom smiled serenely and reached a hand out to grasp his shirt.

"But, I don't -," I sputtered. I moved aside as they passed and then followed behind. I stopped when Phil opened the front door.

"We'll be back in a little while." He gave me a small smile, _it's ok_.

I watched them from the bay window in the living room and saw what she never had with my father. They were so in love, it wasn't fair. _Please_, I prayed again. _For him then_.

He carried her down the beach to the shore, stopping when his bare feet hit the water. I kept watching, though I felt like an intruder. He smiled and said something and my mom tipped her head back and laughed. She looked like herself again and I understood that that was how Phil would always see her. Vibrant and light and smart and fun and so alive. He turned in a slow circle like they were dancing and she didn't look afraid, she looked happy.

I turned away from it and cried.

*~*~*~*

Once Edward started talking, he didn't stop for a long time. He told me about breaking up with his girlfriend, and how my mom was there, trying to make him feel better though they barely knew each other. She told him silly blonde jokes and said Tanya wasn't the one for him. He talked about his book and how he'd given up on it until Renee came into his life. He mentioned the promise he made to finish it and how he hated himself a little for not keeping it. He said she got him the typewriter.

He touched my bent knee idly with the backs of his fingers. "She…I don't know, she believed in – everything, you know?"

It was so obvious to me now that she would take him in, in a way. She loved people. It was just _her_. "She believed in you."

*~*~*~*

"_That's_ how you knew it was my birthday?" I'd wondered about that.

He grinned, "yeah, she told me the gum story too," he played with the ends of my hair and I flushed deeply. "Personally, I prefer it the way it is now," he tugged a little on the strands he was holding and I leaned over to kiss him.

*~*~*~*

"I don't know how she did it," he said. "She's just the kind of person you want to talk to."

"Yeah," I agreed. Renee had a knack for attracting people to her, everyone wanted to be around her to see what kinds of things she would say or do. They always had a story after spending time with her.

"I guess…she didn't judge you, she just told you the truth…,"

I nodded, "she was usually right."

*~*~*~*

"She treated me like I was worth it…to be around. I – I don't remember feeling like that before." He looked at our joined hands.

"You are worth it."

*~*~*~*

"You mean you didn't know?" I asked, frowning. How could my mom not tell him she was sick?

"No, your stepdad told me," his jaw looked tight, but after a minute his face relaxed, if only slightly. "I get it though, I think. I didn't at first." He paused, "she just wanted to feel like herself."

I nodded. If Edward didn't know she was sick, he wouldn't treat her like a sick person. On the phone with him was probably the only time she felt normal. I thought of the way I'd treated her, like glass, once I found out, and it only got worse as time went on. I tried not to think things like, _if I could only go back_.

*~*~*~*

"I left the day I found out and just drove…I wound up in some town in California."

His voice had taken on the distant quality one uses when they're trying to be objective, or trying not to get emotional. I played with his hands and waited for him to keep going.

"I didn't really do anything…I drank a lot and stayed in this really crappy motel. I tried to forget about the house, I just – couldn't be here." His eyebrows came together and he swallowed hard. "I threw it into the ocean," he said it to himself. "I don't know why…,"

I frowned, not understanding. "You threw what into the ocean?" I watched his face start to crumple and it broke my heart a little.

"My book - I threw it away Bella. I promised your mom I'd finish it and I threw it away."

I pulled him as close as I could; he wrapped his arms around me and cried.

*~*~*~*

"I figured someone was going to get the house, I just thought it was going to be Phil. When I saw you here…you were in _Renee's_ house, using her shower, I saw your stuff downstairs," he shook his head. "I kind of lost it."

My mouth curved up a little, "I remember." I squeezed his hand.

"It was…I thought you were a stranger. I had no idea you were her daughter until you came down to talk to me on the porch, when you got mad and said your mom had…," he paused and brought my hand up to his mouth; he kissed my palm. "I thought…I mean, it looked like someone had come in there and taken over, some person that had no idea…," he stopped talking, lost in whatever thoughts he was having.

"It's ok, Edward. Most of the time I feel like that's what I'm doing here – stomping around on her memory."

"You're not."

*~*~*~*

"Well…," he sighed and rubbed his eyes. It was very late and we were both tired, but something had finally opened up and I think we were both afraid it wouldn't be there in the morning. "It didn't really have anything to do with _you_, exactly…," he looked uncertain.

I lay down and he put an arm around me automatically; I slipped a leg over one of his and waited for him to start again.

"It was that you were her daughter. You were…a part of her and I just didn't want to be around her life anymore. You were just this…reminder."

I felt his eyes on me like he was gauging my reaction. I kept quiet.

"And I wanted you, I thought I could…just…get you out of my system, I'm sorry," he added quickly.

Surprisingly, I understood.

"I was just going to move out actually," he said after a second. "When I realized I really liked you, it was – I don't know, too much." He said quietly, "I was sick of always being left behind. I didn't want to get attached to you."

"I'm glad you didn't leave."

He kissed the top of my head, "me too." He murmured, "I'm sorry I took all of it out on you."

"You're already forgiven."

We were quiet for a while; I thought he'd fallen asleep before he spoke again. "You're a lot like her…in some ways."

"I'm not," I adjusted so I was on my back; I stared at the ceiling and tried not to think. "People keep telling me that."

"I think…that's why you try so hard to be normal…,"

"What?" I stiffened, feeling the tension in my shoulders.

"What are you afraid of?"

I huffed, thinking at the same time – _nothing_, and _pretty much everything_.

He turned onto his side to look at me. "You don't live in her shadow, you know," he traced my profile with the tip of his index finger, my eyes watered. I don't know if it sunk in right then, but I knew he'd started something with that sentence.

I fell asleep late that night thinking of how I'd tried so hard my whole life not to be like Renee. But I was her daughter and just maybe, she'd given me some of her goodness and just maybe, I didn't have to be afraid of it.

"_Mom," I whined, trying not to show her how terrified I was, "I want to stay on this side." I stood up to my knees in Gran's pond, absolutely unwilling to go any further. _

_My mom was so far out her feet didn't touch the ground; I watched her bob lightly in the water. "Oh Bella, you're never going to learn to swim if you don't try." She smiled, bemused, and went under the water, resurfacing a few seconds later closer to shore. The water was about chest high. "Just come out this far," she stretched her hands out toward me._

_It was really hot that day and I could feel the skin on my shoulders close to burning; the water looked very cool. "Will you catch me?" I asked, taking a half step out._

"_Of course I will, baby." _

_I watched her carefully as I stepped forward into the deeper water, afraid that she'd start backing up or something. She didn't._

_She smiled again. "Ok," she said, "just like I taught you."_

_When I was far enough, I felt weightless. I lifted my feet and kicked frantically, half panicked and half exhilarated. And then I started swallowing water._

"_Oh!" Suddenly, I felt her cool hands under my arms, lifting me up higher. I wrapped my legs around her and she hitched me up on her hip like she hadn't done in a long time; I don't think she'd even be able to if we weren't in the water. She rubbed my back with one hand and I coughed. She chuckled, "are you alright?"_

_I wiped my mouth. "Why do I have to learn to swim?" I said petulantly. _

"_Well…I'm going to tell you something Gran used to say to me. Listen," she looked down at me, her eyes bright, "are you listening?"_

_I nodded._

"_Girl, live your life like it's the only one you've got." She looked at me seriously, her gaze moving over my face._

_I watched her watch me. Finally, I frowned. "I don't get it."_

_She laughed. "Bella, you will some day."_

When I woke up, Edward was awake already, facing me; he moved some hair from in front of my eyes so I could see. The light from the window set off the bronze in his hair; it turned his eyes greener and I thought he'd never looked more handsome. He smiled at me sleepily. "I love you."

He closed his eyes and I touched his face, running my thumb over his brow bone. "I love you."

*~*~*~*

_Hey mom, I still miss you every day. _

_But I think I get it now, sorry it took me so long. _

_Love you.

* * *

_

Author's Note: Hi to everyone and thanks for reading. All that's left is the epilogue!


	30. Epilogue: The Ever After

Epilogue: The Ever After

Edward's breath left him in a quick puff of air. "Ow."

I tried to pull back to see if he was alright, but he wouldn't let me go. Instead he spun us around so it was me up against the door frame he'd just bumped into. "Are you -," I started.

His words came out rushed, it sounded like, "_FineI'mfine_," he kissed the shell of my ear, "where?"

"Bedroom," I could hardly breathe, it was glorious.

He shook his head quickly and ran his tongue along the pulse point at my neck; he followed it with his lips. "Too fucking far," he pressed his hips into mine, pinning me in place.

I had no voice for other suggestions, but when he nipped my neck with his teeth I moaned in his ear. I didn't realize we had moved until I found myself straddling his lap on the chair he bought me. I grinned at him, "oh."

He probably would have smiled if he hadn't been so intent on getting the last of our clothes off, most of them were scattered in the hallway already. His hands moved deftly, everything about him was deft. He'd been memorizing me, this whole time, and took every opportunity to put it to use. The thought made me warm. I felt buoyant.

I reached my hands around to the back of his head and grasped his hair, just tightly enough to get his attention. He pulled back from my collar bone and licked his lips. When our eyes met something passed between us; he grinned in that lopsided way that said I didn't have to say it, he already knew. He kissed me, softly and then hard. I could feel him underneath me, the most pleasurable kind of pressure.

I kept my hands where they were and felt his come around me; he pulled me as close as our position allowed. He adjusted us both and then pressed down on my hips until he was inside. And then he stopped everything for just a second, the way he always did now.

I kissed his temple after a second and his hands tightened while I rocked above him. He liked it when we faced each other; he said he liked to see me. I could feel the lightest sheen of sweat developing between us and the minute movements of his body as he rose to meet me. I wasn't going to last long.

His hands went to my hips to guide my movements. I wrapped my own around his shoulders and held him close; he pushed his face into the crook of my neck and nipped at me again until I moaned.

When I let go, my head tipped back automatically; I could feel Edward's eyes on me which made every sensation more potent. When his fingers gripped even more tightly, I knew he was coming apart too. I recovered just quickly enough to see his eyes close and his forehead press against my chest. I made the smallest motions, the kind I knew he liked, and let him ride it out. I had been memorizing him too.

We came down together, Edward's arms supporting my whole upper body. Our chests touched in the rhythm of our heavy breathing.

"Are your toes numb?" I could feel his grin.

I had no energy for speech so instead I made a sound resembling a chuckle.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, but it wasn't long enough. Someone was knocking; someone was always knocking at the most inopportune time. I kept my eyes closed. I felt Edward's head fall back against the chair. "Let them knock…if it's important they'll come back."

I smiled and seriously considered it for a minute until I heard the second set of knocks. I sighed, "I should get it," he wrapped his arms around me in rebuttal. "We're going to get interrupted again soon anyway."

He grumbled, but let me go.

"It's probably Rosalie," I looked around for my clothes, but didn't see them anywhere. Edward handed me his t-shirt and then slipped on his jeans; it did not go unnoticed that he skipped underwear.

With some reluctance, I walked over to answer the door. When I opened it I saw the retreating form of the last person I expected to see today. "Phil?"

He turned around. "Bella," he smiled, "I didn't think you were here." He took the steps two at a time, his feet crunching over the un-swept autumn leaves, and looked me over, "sorry I didn't – call first."

"Oh," I resisted the urge to finger comb my hair, "it's fine. Um, come in." Behind him, another car pulled into the driveway. This was just the beginning. I let Phil in, but stayed in the doorway self consciously tugging on my t-shirt.

"Edward," Phil said, surprised. "It's…it's been a while." I turned around and watched them shake hands with clear awkwardness.

In the driveway, Rose, Emmett, and Abby were climbing out of Emmett's Jeep, their arms loaded down. Rose took one look at me and grinned mischievously. "And what have you been doing all morning, I bet?"

I flushed and rolled my eyes. Emmett snorted.

"Rosie," Abby tugged on her belt loop, pointing at me, "you wear big shirts like that too!"

This time Emmett laughed out loud. "Yes she does."

Abby jogged ahead of them and waved hello as she let herself into the house; she'd become a regular fixture here over the last month – on the PG nights, of course. She'd taken a fascination with the house and took ghost hunting very seriously. She and Alice got along beautifully.

When Emmett and Rose got to the porch, I grinned. "Are we corrupting her already?"

Emmett set a plastic container down just inside the doorway. "Probably." He gave me a quick hug, "the place looks great." He looked over the house, having not seen it completely finished. I'd managed to talk Esme into leaving the rest of the structure the way it was and agreed to let her paint the inside if she'd let me help. She'd chosen a deep antique white; it looked like the original color but with a few years knocked off. It was perfect, everything Esme and Carlisle did added to the memory rather than taking away from it. I thought my mom would be proud. "Ok," Emmett said, "where do you need me?"

"Outside, the chairs are on the back porch, you'll see everything."

Edward followed Emmett outside, leaving Phil, Rose, Abby, and I in the entryway.

Phil shifted his weight to one foot. "Did I come at a bad time?"

I told him no and that he was welcome to stay if he didn't mind being put to work. He pushed up his sleeves and asked where we needed him and before he went outside, I hugged him. "I'm glad you're here." He just smiled before heading out to the guys. I wondered if there was a reason for his visit.

"So," Rose said after taking Abby into the den with her coloring books; the little girl could entertain herself for hours. "Are you going to put on pants before we get to work? I think I saw some on the floor over there." She gestured down the hall and I took a swipe at her with the back of my hand. I grabbed my jeans and took a quick look around for my underwear which were nowhere to be found. Once I was decent, we headed outside to finish unloading everything.

Charlie pulled up a few minutes later. He got out of the car and then opened the back door to grab a garment bag from the seat. "I hope this still fits," he called out, "otherwise I'm wearing this," he put his hand out to indicate his denim and flannel uniform. He shut the door and took a few steps up the driveway to meet us, "hey girls."

We said hello and he asked where he would be helpful and we told him where everyone else was. At the foot of the steps, he turned around. "Now, I don't want to sound…but…who the hell gets married on Halloween?" He said it good naturedly, like he knew the answer but had to ask anyway.

We shrugged. "Alice and Jasper."

For the rest of the morning, Rosalie and I arranged the library for the reception with the sometimes help of Abby who got too curious to stay in the den. Alice wanted small, Jasper didn't have much family and she didn't want everything to be lopsided. So it was going to be the friends, Abby, Charlie, Carlisle and Esme, and now Phil. Alice and her parents had grown distant over the years and at the moment they were on a cruise somewhere near Bermuda. Emmett was presiding and Carlisle was giving her away.

Rose and I pushed a few pieces of furniture into the library, enough for all of us to sit on after dinner and cake. I blushed when I saw _the_ chair, but Rosalie didn't notice. There was also a long table that Edward and Emmett dragged into the room for the reception. We slipped a merlot colored runner along its length and a pumpkin and flower centerpiece in the middle. Palm sized pumpkins went around that at random intervals as per Alice's instructions.

Other orders: that the back yard not be raked – the orange and yellow leaves were pretty enough to leave there, that there be no center aisle (there weren't enough of us to warrant one), and that the arch be set up at an angle so that we all faced diagonal to the pond, it had something to do with the lighting out there during the afternoon. Also, no matching dresses, apparently Rose and I as bridesmaids were implicit.

A couple of hours before the ceremony, Rose and I took showers and got ready before the guys could come inside and commandeer the bathrooms. I had my bathroom to myself, so I reveled in the space and took my time. My dress hung on the door; it was a chocolate colored thing that flared out when I spun.

I did my hair with the dress on, though I left it unzipped because the heat from the curling iron was making me hot.

"Hey," Edward leaned against the door frame, sweaty and looking too good to resist. "Are you trying to tell me something?" He strolled forward and played with my zipper.

I grinned and turned around to kiss him, he tasted a little salty.

"Oh, here," he pulled something out of his pocket.

"What…," I looked at what he held. My eyes widened and he smiled.

"I couldn't just leave them in the hall," he sounded like he was about to laugh, spinning my underwear on his index finger. "I could put them in my suit pocket…,"

I reached for them and he pulled his hand back, playfully. "Edward," I whined, though the idea of him having my underwear in his pocket all day was oddly arousing. "Fine," I said, turning back to the mirror, trying not to give myself away.

He kissed my neck. "I like this dress."

The way it was cut showed all my collar bone, which is also why I bought it. I tilted my head to the side a little and was treated to the lightest flick of his tongue; he put his hands on my waist. "You need to…," I was trying to think the word shower.

"Bella," Abby called from the bedroom, "do you have any hair thingies?"

I swallowed and said that I did. I gave them to her while Edward started the shower.

We finished getting ready with only one more near-sex moment which happened when Edward didn't fasten his towel around his hips tightly enough.

Alice arrived before Jasper, ready except for her dress. It was sleek and cream colored, like something Jean Harlow would have worn. Her hair was curled in a dark halo around her head, no veil. "It wouldn't match the dress," she'd said. She stayed upstairs in my bedroom when Jasper got there so he wouldn't see her. She was following the rules the second time around.

When it was time to start, we went to find our seats while Carlisle waited at the foot of the stairs.

Edward and I sat next to Charlie; we watched Jasper fidget near Emmett until Alice appeared. You could tell because he went completely still, his eyes on her like he didn't get to see her every single day. Edward put his arm over my shoulders.

Their little ceremony didn't take long. A photographer who worked with Esme kept to the fringes; she took no posed pictures so everything looked natural. She followed us into the library afterward, lit warmly with candles and the late afternoon light. Jasper sat at the head of the table with Alice to his right and we all piled in around them. Phil looked a little uncomfortable even after Alice said she was happy to have him there.

We ate and drank, and then drank some more. Jasper toasted his wife and then kissed her in a way just this side of inappropriate. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Carlisle raise his eyebrows suggestively to Esme, who kissed him in response. Abby giggled and Emmett covered her eyes.

After the meal and slices of cake, we moved to the chairs. I grabbed Charlie by the arm when I saw him going for _the_ chair. "Uh dad," I stalled, "why don't you sit over here," I gestured toward the loveseat, "much more comfortable." He looked at me strangely, but complied; Edward laughed.

Carlisle played bartender with his special predictive ability. We had it set up in the same place we had the last time everyone was over. Esme leaned next to him on the desk, flirtatiously. We broke off into our own conversations and it was around then that Phil came up to where Edward and I sat on the chair and ottoman. "Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?" He asked Edward; I squeezed his hand before he walked away, my stomach knotting for a reason I couldn't explain.

They were gone for a while, but I think only I noticed. Alice was regaling Charlie with the story of our séance and how she was sure Renee had been right, this house was haunted. Abby sat next to Emmett and agreed whole-heartedly. Charlie tried to say that it was just an old house, but Alice was having none of it. It was during their friendly dispute that Phil and Edward came back. Edward sat in the chair and pulled me onto his lap. The debate went on as if nothing happened. Alice was saying something about having her Ouija board with her. Phil sat on a free chair next to Emmett.

"What was that?" I mumbled to Edward.

"I," he paused, "I'll tell you later."

I frowned at him, "is something wrong?"

"No, it's…," he ran a hand through his hair and brought his face closer to my ear. "He said he was going through Renee's things and he found my manuscript."

We'd both forgotten about the only other copy, the one he'd sent to my mom.

"He gave it back to me and told me to finish it." His hands gripped my waist tightly and I could only guess at what he was thinking.

I looked at him and smiled softly, "Edward."

He gave me a small smile in return, "yeah."

"Hey lovebirds," Alice called to us from her perch on Jasper's lap, "did you hear that?"

We both looked up. "Hear what?" I asked. I noticed everyone in the room had quieted, including the photographer. I listened.

There it was, above our heads. The long and low creak I'd become familiar with, like someone moving toward the stairs, I felt the hair rise on the back of my neck. _It's nothing_, I tried to smile. It hadn't tried to get me yet, so it was obviously friendly enough. _No, it's_ nothing. I debated with myself while straining my ears for more noise. We all straightened at the sound on the stairs, like someone putting weight on the top step.

We looked at each other, even Charlie looked rattled. My eyes went to everyone and saw that we all wore the same expression. For some reason, I laughed. And then Carlisle did too, and then the rest of the group.

"It's…," Charlie started, "it's just an old house." He took a long pull from his beer.

I leaned further into Edward, whose arms came around me warmly.

I thought of all the family that had lived here over the years and who it could be that was watching over us. _No_, I thought. Houses creak and groan with age, it's nothing. I snuggled into Edward's chest.

Just an old house. I think.

* * *

Author's Note: Done! Big thanks to everyone that read/reviewed/recommended this story; it really means the world to me. Thanks also to those of you that shared your own stories with me; I was touched by them and am grateful for you candor. I was actually a little surprised by how many people this story touched on such a personal level, when I first started writing I had no idea it was going to go as deeply as it did. And now that it's done, I wouldn't have it any other way.

This story was really a chance for me to explore very, very imperfect people. I'm so glad almost all of you recognized that - sometimes we love them and sometimes we hate them and no, they don't have all the answers. It was really fun to be able to write that way.

Anyway, for the future - I'm finishing The Cherished One, I think there are three or four more updates until that one is finished. After that I'm going to take a little break and work on my next story (yes, there's another one coming). It's a big, multi-chapter affair that I'm pretty excited about; I've researched the hell out of it and I can't wait to start posting.

Thanks again :)


	31. Outtake: Finding the Words

Author's Note: Hi everyone, originally I hadn't planned on posting this, but I'm fickle and I thought you guys might like it. This is the Reality outtake I submitted for MsKathy's Haiti Relief effort, enjoy!

So, to set you up: Bella slept with Edward for the first time the previous day, and as you probably recall it is right after that that Tanya shows up on Edward's doorstep, claiming he's the father of her child. He disappears from Bella's life for a week while Tanya is there. They are waiting for paternity test results and in the meantime this is what happens; it's in Edward's point of view.

** The italics are flashbacks from the night Edward spent with Bella. **

* * *

Outtake: Finding the Words

_Any way Bella wanted it was the way it was supposed to be. And she wanted it hard and slow and everything in between and so I gave it to her. I'd give her everything if I knew how, but I knew I could give her this, at least._

_ She bared her neck for me to taste. "So much," I mumbled against her, unsure of what that meant._

"Do you want to come to the store with me?" Tanya called from my bedroom; I was sleeping in the living room for the time being.

I tapped my red pen against my forehead. No, I wanted to say, I don't want to go to the store with you, I don't want to go anywhere with you. But that would also be saying no to my – whatever he was. My son? "Yeah," I pushed out of my chair and stretched; my back popped dully.

"Don't look so enthusiastic, Edward." She stood at the entrance to the hall, her weight leaning on one leg, baby on her hip.

Ben, that's what she named him – Ben.

"Let me put my shoes on."

*~*~*~*

_Bella's skin was sweet though I could feel it becoming slick with sweat. She was on my bed like she'd never belonged anywhere else and I was hard and she was so very soft. I'd ripped her shirt in my haste, but I didn't really give a shit. What had this night started out as? Her tongue made a slow pass below my Adam's apple and then I didn't give a shit about what my plans had been either._

"Edward?"

"Huh?" I blinked and realized I'd been staring at rows upon rows of baby products. There was so much to remember; I didn't know how Tanya did this all by herself. There was too much; it was expensive and it smelled weird and I couldn't believe that this really might be my life now. There were like, eighty brands of diapers alone. Fuck my pathetic excuse for a life.

"Are you ready?"

Not even remotely.

*~*~*~*

I went to Bella's that night, Monday. I went the front door, I knew she was home, and I looked in the side windows like some psychopath. There was a light on at the top of the stairs, I was pretty sure. But I didn't knock.

What could I give her? I had nothing to give anyone save for a good fuck and I'd never put her merely in that category. So I went back to the guest house, hands in my pockets, where I knew Tanya was trying to play house. She refused to get a hotel room, said I needed to get to know my son. But honestly, he scared the shit out of me. He was so little; I was afraid and on edge every time he was in the same room as me. There were too many ways I could break him, but I knew too well that my absence would do the job just as well as my presence could.

*~*~*~*

_I wanted to worship her and tell her sweet things whose words eluded me. But that I wasn't good at anyway. I kissed her bare ankle, tasted the skin over the bone. I was good at this and I hoped she'd see what I couldn't say out loud. So I told her, "look at me." What I wanted to say was, _understand.

_ I found a ticklish spot behind her knee that would be subject to further inspection later, if she would let me._

I stared at my sheet of white paper, which I'd covered in lines of red pen. "I'm sorry," it started out. I laughed, the sarcasm seeping through, and crumbled it up.

"What's so funny?" Tanya asked from the kitchen doorway; she wiped her hands on a dish rag. She didn't hum when she washed dishes the way Bella did, but she did wash them by herself though I'd offered my services. I felt for her then, watching her hang the towel off her shoulder the way I did. Her hands were dry all the time now, she'd told me.

"Nothing, just thinking."

She hmm'd and I saw her eyes move over me, not possessively, just reading. "You know, you should get a TV or something, don't you ever get bored?"

I lifted the corner of my mouth; it was something she used to say when she lived here. I replied with my line, "then I'd never get any writing done." She gave me some semblance of a smile before going back into the kitchen.

*~*~*~*

I saw Bella coming home from work on Tuesday; I saw because I was waiting for her. It was past time, I was sure, that she'd forgive me easily. But I had to see her, talk to her, make sure she was alright. Even if she hated me; she deserved so much more than my abandonment.

I'd done exactly what I'd promised myself I wouldn't do – I'd used her. We'd had sex, it was more than sex really, but I didn't know what to call it, and then I'd let her go without a single word. How many other men had done that to her? And was I lumped into that category now too? If I wasn't yet, I should be.

She'd walked out of here, humiliated I was sure, in my shirt that hung down almost to her knees. I wanted to grab her and drag her to me, slam the door on Tanya and everything that word meant – _Daddy_. But that same word froze me and like a coward, I refused to be thawed.

I was ashamed.

When Bella pulled up, it was almost dark; she'd stayed late at work the day before also. Trying to stay away from this place and me. Before she could even turn off the engine, I turned and went back inside.

*~*~*~*

_She reminded me a little of honey, but that wasn't quite the right sweetness either. Something delicious. I inhaled and nipped at her thigh because she seemed to like it. My hands were at her underwear, this little cotton nothing, and I looked at her; I needed to know what she wanted. _

_ "Please," she said like she was begging, like she would ever have to beg me for anything._

_ "Fuck," I mumbled against her leg; I wasn't sure if she'd heard me._

_ She tasted a little like honey too. Her body had fallen flat onto the bed and I hoped she'd seen all that she wanted. _

*~*~*~*

I had a slim view of Bella's back porch through my side windows, obstructed, but visible enough. She was sitting out there with a book, her hair shined in the rare sunlight. It looked more like she was staring at the page rather than reading it. After a few minutes, she walked inside.

_I pulled her against me and pushed inside her and it was like nothing I'd ever be able to describe. Her slim hands clutched at me, her nails raking down my back. _So much_, I thought and again, I wasn't sure what that meant._

"What are you doing?" Tanya's voice came from somewhere behind me.

When I turned around I could see that she was picking at the skin near her thumbnail, that cockiness from when she first arrived had all but disappeared. Now she looked fragile, like she knew exactly what was going on and that whatever plan she might have had was quickly evaporating. "Nothing," I said lamely.

"Um," she bit her lip and I kind of wanted to hug her. She shifted the baby higher on her hip. "I thought maybe we could order in tonight…I'm kind of tired."

I stepped closer. "I can make something; you know I don't like you cooking all the time." In truth, she was a wonderful cook, and continued to refuse the help I offered, saying she was used to doing everything.

She grinned, "I don't really feel like spaghetti."

*~*~*~*

_I could feel Bella both tightening and coming apart beneath me and I could hold back no longer. So I let go, pushing into her harder and faster, willing her to come with me. _

_ "Please," she said again, breathless. So I did. And her little fingers gripped me while I trailed my own between our bodies. We fell together, and it was like oblivion, but not - because it was her and it was me and this was infinitely more than just something I could give her because I was good at it. But I still didn't have the words._

On Thursday, I had pages, written through the previous night, of things I wanted to say to Bella, but none of it was enough. I had the words now, but they weren't the right ones. Nothing I could say wouldn't hurt her, I was positive. So, page by page, I threw it away. _Fucking useless_.

"Writer's block?" Tanya asked. I noticed she was always at the fringes of me now, listening, observing.

"Yeah," I answered.

*~*~*~*

"Can you take him for a little bit? I really want to lay down," her body shifted uncomfortably. "I haven't had a nap since…he was born."

She thrust him into my arms before I could say anything.

"Thanks." She went into my bedroom; I could hear the click of the door closing.

I was afraid to move, to look at him, to see some of myself in his eyes, or the shape of his nose, the color of his hair. He wiggled in my hands.

After I'm not sure how long, my arms got tired, my legs got stiff. So I stood up, so slowly it would have been comical to witness. I shifted him in my arms the way Tanya did and he made a hiccupping noise, but otherwise was quiet. Were babies always this quiet? From what little I knew, it didn't seem likely. I looked at him.

"Uh, hey."

He seemed to regard me, though I wasn't sure if that was possible. Shit, I knew nothing.

His hair was blonde like Tanya's, but with more red than she had. And his eyes were blue like hers as well. His nose was small and round like a button. He smiled at me.

I smiled back automatically.

And then I tried to feel it, that thing I was supposed to feel. That paternal thing, that love and fierce protectiveness, something I remembered dimly from my own childhood. But it wasn't there. I felt something like growing affection, but mostly I thought Ben should be protected from me. He deserved more than me as a father.

After little more than an hour, Tanya got up. I was circling my living room over and over, afraid to stop and afraid to do anything else. Her eyes were still sleepy when she took Ben from me; she held him naturally, as if he were an extension of herself. She cooed at him without a hint of self consciousness.

"So," she said after a time, "it's Friday."

I nodded.

"Dr. Harris said he'd call us tomorrow." She rocked Ben from side to side and I watched as he began to fall asleep in her arms. "Do you think he'll tell us over the phone?"

I tried to be logical. "Probably, unless he has a lot to say." I wasn't sure if that was the answer she was really looking for.

"Do you think you'd…come to Alaska?" She asked suddenly.

"Yes." I thought of Bella, of leaving her behind, and selfishly, of asking her to come with me. I thought about groveling, I never meant to stay away this long. I never meant to hurt her, but my shame pushed me inexorably backward while time kept moving forward and somewhere along the line I'd lost track of everything. I wanted her forgiveness, but I would take her hate if she'd only see me now.

*~*~*~*

_I pulled her on top of me, preferred it this way. Time had slowed so far down I was sure it had stopped if not for the incessant ticking of my clock, but even that seemed lazy. _

_ I played with her hair; I wouldn't say anything just then, but I loved Bella's hair. I brushed my fingers through it and straightened a few strands to see how far down her back it went, the middle, and then released it. My fingertips travelled all the valleys and dips I could reach in this position and any of the places I may have missed during our lovemaking. Above me, she sighed._

_ "Stay here," I told her. Stay here, on me, in this place with me, near enough that I can always reach you; I wanted to say that, but didn't want to scare her. So instead I wrapped my arms around her and waited for her to fall asleep before I let myself relax._

It was two o'clock in the morning and I was the only one awake. The air mattress was uncomfortable as hell and I didn't like being so close to the ground; it felt like trying to sleep on one of those inflatable raft things that kids use in pools. So I got up, made my way over to the window. There were no lights on at Bella's as far as I could see.

"Edward?" Tanya whispered; she always said my name like a question. I felt bad, like I hadn't treated her well since she'd been here. But it was confusing and I thought for a while I had a right to some resentment, maybe I actually didn't.

I turned around and leaned on the window sill. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, just couldn't sleep." She navigated her way in the dark until she was sitting at my makeshift desk. "Are you looking for her again?"

In the moonlight, Tanya's hair looked almost white. "She's asleep. Her name's Bella."

I heard her repeat the name quietly to herself. "I'm sorry, you know, for the way I just showed up and…yeah…,"

"You don't have to apologize to me."

We sat in the dark for a while, neither of us had ever been very good at having a serious conversation.

Looking at her, I realized that Tanya was really beautiful. She'd always been attractive, but now it was in some other way. "Motherhood really agrees with you, Tanya."

She huffed, "yeah I'm sure."

"It does."

She gave a little sigh like she always did before she came out and said something. "Do you think…if I hadn't…do you think that we could have made it work?"

I shrugged, feeling heavy. "Tanya, I – I don't know." I didn't think so, but I didn't want to tell her that. Sure, things might have worked for a while longer, but she wasn't it for me and I sure as hell wasn't it for her.

"Yeah, me either," she gave me a half hearted smile.

*~*~*~*

It was Saturday and Tanya's phone was ringing. We stared at it and at each other; Ben tugged at her hair.

I watched as she answered, trying to read her face. It had never been easy for me; she had this perfect ability to manipulate her expression into whatever it was she wanted you to see. But she was different now and I was beginning to think I was too. I knew next to nothing of fatherhood, but I could follow them to Alaska; I knew I would try.

And Bella? If I left, a part of me understood that it would be over for us before it had even started. But I didn't care, because I knew I would try with her anyway. I had to, even if it looked impossible. If she didn't want me, then I'd let her go though I'd never be too far; I'd wait, if waiting was what it took. First, no matter the outcome today, I needed to find words for her.

Tanya nodded to herself, the phone still pressed to her ear. She said things that didn't point in one direction or the other.

My heart thudded in my chest too fast. Is he mine? _Is he?_

She said a quiet goodbye and snapped her phone shut; Ben gurgled at her. She nodded toward the floor and then sighed. "You're not Ben's father."

"I -," was all I could manage. Had I wanted it to be me? No, I just didn't want it to be anyone else's; Tanya had been mine first. "What does that mean then, for you?" I still wanted to help; there was something I could do, surely.

"I know who it is now," she looked at me, admitting again that she'd been with someone else at the same time she was with me. "I just…hoped it was you." She kind of raised and dropped one shoulder as if it was no big deal, but I could see that her face was tight.

"Can I…do something?" I felt like I was grasping at straws.

She shook her head and smiled in that obviously uncomfortable way; she told me no, that she'd be fine. "Unless you want to move to Alaska with me anyway…," she added as an afterthought.

No, I wouldn't. Now that I knew I wasn't someone's father, I also knew that my life only went in one direction from here.

Tanya waved her hand, "forget I said that…I should start packing."

She got her things together quickly and before long, her bags were in her car, Ben was in his carseat, and Tanya was saying goodbye. She stood between the open door and the frame, fiddling with her keys. "Thanks and…you know, sorry for all – everything," she gestured with her free hand.

"Tanya…," I didn't know what to say. I thought maybe I should hug her or tell her something that would make it right again, but there wasn't anything like that. "Take care of yourself and…I'm here," I shrugged.

She reached up on her toes and leaned forward across the top of the car door to kiss me on the cheek. It didn't feel familiar like I thought it should.

And then, just as quickly as she came into my life again, she was gone.

*~*~*~*

_I wanted to hear her breath and feel her heart beating, like I was afraid she would disappear soon and I knew if that happened, she'd take everything with her._

_ Sometime during the night Bella had changed positions and fallen asleep on her back. Her hair was sexy, wild and careless around her face; she had an arm curved up above her head. "Edward," she mumbled._

_ I leaned over her; _she talks in her sleep_. As carefully as I could manage, I relaxed, resting my head on her chest a fraction at a time. Counting the beats, I thought about tomorrow and everything I wanted to show her.

* * *

_Author's Note: So there you have it, thank you lovelies for reading and I hoped you liked the insight into Edward's head.

For those of you that haven't already seen it, there's an interview I did for the site So You Think You Can Write? linked on my profile. It's a pretty cool site, check it out.

Also, I'm working on something new that I'm pretty enthused about. It's tentatively called The Youthquakers; I'll start posting after I've taken a little break to write a few chapters and get a full night's sleep :)


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